Angel Of The Last
by the Last Flowerchild
Summary: Pickles begins having dreams of Toki's death. When he discovers that they might be more than just mere nightmares, he has to decide whether or not he should sacrifice his life in order to save Toki's. Pickles/Toki slash.
1. Goodnight

**Here we go again...**

****WARNINGS****

**Slash, drug/alcohol usage, bad language, and possible death.  
****If you don't like, don't read.**

****DISCLAIMER****

**No, I still don't own any characters...except Toki's girlfriend.  
****I guess I'll take credit for her and the idea for the story.**

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

_Untrampled footsteps  
__Borderline dreams  
__Occasion for sinners  
__alive if it seems  
__given to wander  
__alone at the shore  
__wanton to whisper  
__I am no more  
__Am as my heart beats  
__live as I can  
__wanton to whisper  
__faraway sands_

_~~Untramped Footsteps by Jim Morrison_

_**CHAPTER 1: GOODNIGHT**_

It all began in a luxurious hotel room in the heart of some grand, sprawling Mexican city. Everyone had always told Pickles his whole life that the water in Mexico was bad—Ofdensen had given the whole band a speech about how it was contaminated and would make any tourist sick—but of course he hadn't listened. He had been so thirsty, and it was _right there. _Toki had spotted the sparkling, crystal pool of water as well and they'd exchanged glances. A few sips and several hours later here they were lying in a fancy hotel room, both sick to their stomachs and being waited on by the Klokateers while the rest of the band shopped and picked up girls. Pickles glared up at the ceiling and sneered.

" 'Dis is so stupid. Whose stupid idea was it to keep us in a Gad damn hotel room for the rest of the trip?"

"Ofdensen's." Toki answered, turning his pale and sick face towards the drummer; he added proudly, "Camille saids that-"

"I don't give a livin' fuck what your stupid girlfriend said!" Pickles snapped, letting out a hiss of annoyance. _Camille, Camille, Camille, _that stupid amber-haired, green-eyed little bitch. _Toki's _bitch, or more like Toki was her bitch. She'd showed up a few months ago, had a fling with Skwisgaar, then had started going out with the Norwegian after things between her and the lead guitarist turned sour. It didn't take a genius to see the game she was playing with Toki. Pickles crossed his arms over his chest as he thought about her. _Camille,_ all anyone ever heard about now was that bitch_ Camille._

Toki was silent for a long time before he said quietly, "You know that she asked me to meets with her parents once we get back to the Americas?"

"She _what?"_

"She says that she wants to marrys me."

His mind suddenly exploded, went everywhere at once. Thru his disbelief he managed to say, "N-No, you can't do 'dat! She's a total fuckin' idiot, Toki. You can do better, trust me."

The guitarist shrugged and shifted in his bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin and said quite simply, "I think I might loves her."

"You don't! She's a bitch and she's just usin' you to stay close to Skwisgaar." Pickles insisted. "You ain't stupid, you know that. You _have _to know that."

"You don't wants me with her?" he scoffed. "What ams new? You don't likes anyone who I go outs with, Pickle. I don't gets it. Ams you jealous?"

"Jealous?" Pickles glared over at him. "Dude, don't be an asshole. That chick's been eying Skwisgaar ever since we let her come backstage. She-"

"Likes _me _now!"

"No she don't!"

His face turned red with both anger and shame as he blurted, "Why ams you being like this? Ever since we started goings out you've beens a dick."

Pickles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, _I'm _bein' the dick. Whatever."

"Ja, whatevers."

There was a long while of silence; whenever Toki brought up his girlfriend in the presence of the drummer there was always a fight. Finally Pickles worked up the courage to say gently, "Dude, just trust me, you could do way better."

"Likes who? Camille ams so perfect! She ams smart, funny, pretty-"

"I know, alright? I gat it, she's great, but..."

"But whats, Pickle?"

He shut his mouth and thought. The truth was that Camille really _was _perfect. She was hot, smart, funny, and on top of it all she played the guitar like Toki. Logically nothing seemed simpler in the world—Toki and Camille were made for each other—but Pickles still didn't accept it. Didn't the Norwegian remember the bond they'd made together way back as teenagers, the first time they'd met? Didn't Toki remember that he had given himself to Pickles for the first time and that they'd always promised each other that one day they'd be together like that again? Apparently not, because in a moment the guitarist had fished his Dethphone out of his pocket and was madly texting. Pickles felt his face burning with envy and hatred for Camille as he rolled over in his bed to face the wall. Stupid Camille ruined everything; she always did.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

"S'okay, it's nat your fault."

"I'm sorrys, Pickle..."

"It's fine, really."

"...that you haves to put up with me."

The drummer stood over Toki's bed; he was busy holding back Toki's hair as the guitarist puked into a trashcan. Where were the Klokateers when he needed them? Oh well, he supposed that he could put up with this just as long as there was no Camille. Just as he thought this, as if on cue, the door to the room opened up and a skinny, bare-legged girl entered the room. She threw her gigantic designer purse down onto the floor and looked over at Toki, a concerned look on her face.

"Your manager called me and said you were sick."

"I'ms fi-"

"I was _shopping, _darling."

Toki looked up at her, his face dripping with sweat, and flushed. "Suh-sorrys." he gagged and puked some more into the trashcan. Upon seeing this, Camille let out a disgusted little scream and pushed Pickles away from the trembling Norwegian.

"What happened to you, sweetie? Do you have the flu?"

The drummer scoffed at her stupidity. "The _flu? _Wow."

She narrowed her green eyes at him and said in a deadly voice, "Oh, Pickles, darling, I didn't know that _you _were here."

"_I've _been here all day."

"Well _I've _been out shopping for him."

"Yeah, well, _I-"_

"I thinks I'm going to puke agains." Toki said above their bickering. Pickles stepped forward, totally prepared to help him, but Camille pushed him away and picked up the puke-filled trashcan; she forced it into the drummer's arms and gave him a devious smile.

"Be a dear and go empty this out for me."

"Sure thing, hat stuff." he answered sarcastically before going to dump the sickness into the toilet in the bathroom.

Just before he left them, he heard Camille distinctly say to him, "Sweetie, you might want to just check yourself in the mirror; you have something on your face, right above your eyes." Stupid eyebrow piercings. Camille always teased him about them. Like now, how she smiled over her shoulder at the drummer and added in a sly tone, "You look like a stupid fag with those things in your fa-"

"Camille, maybes you shouldn't..." Toki interrupted her, giving Pickles a warning glance. "And maybe you should gos and do what she says."

"I'll do what she says, alright..." he mumbled begrudgingly as he stormed into the bathroom. He cleaned the trashcan up and then brought it back out to the Norwegian. Truth be told, he wasn't feeling that great either, but he'd puked earlier that day so he didn't feel that bad now.

When Camille saw that Pickles was back, she immediately stopped her chatter and turned to him, a hateful look on her beautiful face. "_You're _back, are you? Toki was just telling me how he got sick. Apparently you let him drink some water."

"Well yeah, but-"

"How could you do something so stupid?" and she flashed him a wicked smirk before saying, "Well, I suppose it's my fault, really; I thought that Toki could depend on someone to watch him, but I forgot that all of his little friends are nothing but stupid, mindless drunks."

"I ams _nat _a drunk!" Pickles objected. Camille laughed at this and took Toki's hand in her own in an obvious display of just how much power she had over the guitarist. She changed the subject.

"Dear, you look tired—oh, wait, is that a gray hair?" she indicated a spot on the drummer's head and gasped in faked surprise. "Oh my, I think you're going gray, sweetie. You look so _old..._how old are you again?"

"None of your Gad damn business!" he snapped. Everyone knew that Pickles was shy about his age; he was the oldest musician in _Dethklok, _even though that wasn't saying much_. _The drummer said nothing else, only went and threw himself onto his bed. His stomach was killing him and he was starting to sweat. He shut his eyes tightly and tried so very hard to tune out Camille as she rambled onto Toki about the stupidest crap.

"...and another thing, dear," she said in a disgustingly honey-sweet voice. "I'm going to need to borrow about fifty-thousand dollars—well it's not actually _borrowing _because we're about to get married!"

"Wells...I don't know..."

"Please? I love you, sweetie.

"Why do you needs it?"

"For..." a slight hesitation then, "clothes, of course." Pickles tried not to scoff. Clothes? Was that the best she could do? Sure, she spent 87% of her time shopping for clothes, but the other 13% of the time she was using her boyfriend's money to feed her growing cocaine habit. Still, he said nothing, only let out a tired groan and shifted under the covers of his bed. This made Camille glance over at him and frown.

"Darling, why do you spend your time with these kinds of people? They're a horrible influence on you, you know."

"They ams my friends, my family."

"Well in a few months _I'll _be the only family you'll ever need, won't I?"

"I...I guess sos."

"And I don't really think that they should come to the wedding, especially that redhead. Look at him, he's always doing stupid things and getting drunk...you could do better than him, darling."

"Stupid bitch..." he whispered to himself. Thankfully neither of the two heard him, because in a moment Camille was begging Toki for money.

"C'mon, darling, _please! _I promise I'll make it worth your while..."

"Uh...nos, gets off of me, please."

She gasped. "Toki! Don't tell me what to do!"

"Looks, just—I needs some times to think, okay? Just gos out and shop some more or somethings."

"But wh-"

"And next time you comes to see me, don't be so mean to Pickle. He ams doing the best he can; he even held my hair back when I pukes."

"That's...humph...lovely." she said with obvious bitterness. A pause before, "So you really want me to go?"

"Ja. I'll see you laters, though. Come by tomorrow, alrights?"

"I'll come over when I damn well please, you idi-" Camille caught herself and was able to control her temper enough to say, "Tell your stupid friend I said goodnight and pleasant dreams." there were stomping footsteps and the sound of a slamming door.

Once Camille was gone, Toki let out a tired sigh and said aloud, "Pickle, you ams not asleep, are you?"

"Nope."

"So you heards all that?"

"Yep. Crystal clear, dude."

"Sorrys."

"S'fine." Pickles said kindly, rolling over to face Toki. "If you love her then I guess we can all learn to put up with her."

Toki just looked down and repeated hopelessly, "Sorrys."

"It's okay."

"I...maybes I should thinks about her—you knows, sorts of not seeing her anymore? She ams really mean to you and all she really does when the band ams together is stare at Skwisgaar..." his face turned red as he asked, "Do you think they ams still fucking?"

"Nah, I don't think Skwisgaar would do 'dat to you."

"But do you think she would if he would lets her?"

The drummer shrugged and answered awkwardly, "I dunno, dude."

Toki nodded, as if his mind were already made up. "Okays, I gots it."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

"_What did you just say? You think that you can break up with me just LIKE THAT?"_

Toki was sitting up in his bed, an oddly calm and collected look on his face as Camille yelled at him. "Looks, it just ams not going that great. You-"

Her green eyes were ablaze with rage as she asked, her voice a shrill yell, "HOW ARE THINGS NOT THAT GREAT?"

"You hates all my friends, you don't even wants me in the band no mores, you don't lets me talk to my deddy bear no mores—you tried to gives him to charity. I just can't takes it." he glanced over to Pickles and added curtly, "And plus you ams a real bitch, you knows that?"

Camille let out a frustrated cry; the heavy layers of eyeliner and mascara that she usually wore ran down her cheeks in dismal lines. She wasn't crying out of sadness, though, only out of rage and humiliation. "You can _not _brake up with me, you fucking piece of shit!"

"I just dids."

Another yell and she was getting her purse, turning and walking towards the door. Before she left, she whirled around, picked up a lamp, and threw it against the hotel's television. The screen shattered into pieces, but she still wasn't satisfied. She went over to the window and snatched Toki's deddy bear. "You are so stupid!" she howled. "Do you know what I've had to put up with to be with you? You're an immature, retarded little long-haired prick!"

"Gives him back!" Toki begged, his pale eyes growing wide.

Pickles rose up from where he was sitting and took a careful step towards Camille. "Sweetie, just give him back his bear, alright?"

"Or what?"

"I'll fuckin' throw _your _skinny little fake ass outta that window."

Her face flushed with fresh anger as she launched the bear out of the window and into the busy street below. Once that was done, she went to get her purse and run out of the room, but Pickles stuck out his arm and stopped her, threw her against the wall. "You Gad damned little bitch! Go down and get it or I'll kill you, I swear!"

"Pickle, don'ts dos it!" Toki exclaimed, grabbing the drummer by the waist and trying desperately to tug him away from the girl. Pickels let himself be pulled back a few feet, but didn't release Camille. He wrapped his hands around her throat and let out a triumphant laugh. How long he had wanted this, to just break that slut's scrawny, anorexic neck, to fucking rip her throat out and laugh as she bled to death...

Camille latched onto Pickles' face and scratched as hard a she could, breaking skin and drawing blood. "You..." she gagged, clawing and tearing.

"Bitch!" he howled, releasing her and pressing his hands to his bloodied cheeks. "Damn bitch, you almost clawed my eyes ou-"

She slapped him as hard as she could, and before Toki could try and restrain her, she had kicked Pickles as hard as she could between his legs. He went down right away, sobbing and turning red. "You..._bitch..._"

And just like that, it was ended. Camille spat in Toki's face, pushed him to the side, got her purse, and walked over Pickles and out the door. The drummer just laid on the ground for a long while, writing and sobbing in pain. All he could do was repeat, "Stupid bitch, stupid bitch, stupid-"

"Pickle?"

"_What?" _he asked thru gritted teeth. He shut his eyes tightly. God, had she gotten him good. He wished so badly that he could've killed her...

"You ams okay?"

"Your girlfriend just kicked me in the nuts, dude..."

"I knows." he smiled down awkwardly at the drummer and ventured to say, "I'm sorrys about that. Maybe I don't loves her that much after all."

"Great news."

"She looks like she got you real bads, huh?"

"I think I'm bleedin'." Pickles groaned, sitting up. He removed his hands from his crotch and looked down. Surely enough there was a bit of blood there, about the size of a dime. He wiped the tears from his eyes and said in agony, "I'll be pissin' blood for a week 'cause of this."

Toki helped him to his feet and over to his bed before saying, "Well, there ams good news."

"How d'ya figure?"

"You never wanted kids anyways, rights? Now you probably can't haves them."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

Eventually they did recover from their illness and the show was rescheduled. The whole reason that they had even gone to Mexico to begin with had been to play a million-dollar concert, but with two of the musicians falling ill, needless to say there were changes made to the schedule. The day of the show was good and the crowd was huge. The whole band played and everything was okay again...for a while. Truthfully Pickles was forcing himself to power thru each song, having to fight to stay awake. He still was feeling tired—the sickness had taken a toll on him—and he ended up falling asleep behind his drum kit at least twice already. They were only on the fourth song by the time he was drifting off again, pounding away robotically at his drums.

He had to stay awake, he'd already cost the band too much. In desperation he glanced down at Toki and watched as the Norwegian played and was outdone, as always, by Skwisgaar. He loved how the kid played, how he got so into the songs and let all of his emotions flow thru him and onto the strings of that Gibson. Hatred, love, sorrow, agony, and ecstasy; all were being transferred from Toki's iron fingers onto that guitar. Pickles felt himself grow numb and he watched as the guitarist began to bleed. Blood dripped from the Norwegian's fingers down the strings of the Gibson, falling onto his boots and the stage below him.

_Drip, drip, drop._

More blood, Toki's fingernails were a mess of raw flesh and red stickiness. Didn't he notice? No, apparently not, because there was more _drip, drop, drip, splat _as blood dyed the stage crimson. What was wrong with him? Didn't he feel the pain? God, Pickles thought that he might be driven insane if he had to watch one more moment of it...still Toki played, and the more he did the worse his fingers became, until large chunks of skin and flesh fell from his raw hands; he was falling apart, littering the stage with his blood. Pickles gagged, tried to be sick, but couldn't—it was far too disgusting for him to even react or puke. He stopped playing his drums and got up, went to help the guitarist, but stopped when he saw Toki throw down his guitar.

"T-Toki? Dude, are you-"

The Norwegian fell into a crumpled heap onto the stage, his body bloody and cut, crushed and distorted horribly. He looked dead. Pickles immediately went to help him, but before he could he discovered that Toki was still alive, still breathing. He turned to the drummer, his pale eyes full of desperation, crying tears of blood. "Pickle, what happened?"

"I..._what?" _This wasn't real, couldn't be real. Didn't anyone else notice? Pickles looked over, but discovered that the screaming fans had disappeared along with the rest of the band. It was just he and Toki on the stage now. The wind blew and the scent of gasoline and smoke filled Pickles' nose. He gave Toki a disgusted look and went over to him, his hand outstretched. "Are you-"

The rest of his words were drowned out by the insane sound of crunching metal and screaming. The drummer looked around, expecting to see something, but instead was met with the sound of Toki's screaming. When he looked down to where the guitarist had been laying moments before, he saw only a puddle of blood shining under the hot stage lights.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

"Pickles, what the fuck is wrong with you? Get up, you dildo! We're in the middle of a show!"

The drummer let out a confused groan and opened his eyes. Standing above him was Nathan, Skwisgaar, Murderface, and Toki, all appearing to be quite concerned. He blinked and looked around, a clueless look on his sweating and pale face. "What happened to everything—everybody, they're gone."

Nathan let out an exasperated little huff and said angrily, "What happened was that you quit playing and passed out."

"Like a shtupid panshy!" Murderface jeered. He imitated what Pickles had looked like when he had fainted and laughed. Skwisgaar grinned, but didn't find it that amusing. He seemed more annoyed that he had stopped his guitar solo for this.

"So what, ammnest you drunks or something?"

"No I'm nat, I swear to Gad that everyone left and Toki was—" he cut himself off before shutting his eyes. That image of the broken and horribly manged body came racing back to him and he began to sob, "He's dead, he's dead, he's dead..."

The harsh voice of Nathan asked him, _"Whose _dead? What are you talking about?"

"He's dead..."

"Who?"

"Toki!"

Everyone in the band turned to stare at the Norwegian, who just shook his head and touched Pickles' hand. "No, Pickle, I'ms not. I'm right here, okays? I'm fine."

"No," he said, weeping openly in front of the thousands of fans. "y-you were dead and falling apart and—blood, the whole stage was covered with it, and there was screaming and this crunching noise, like metal grinding together, and then-"

"You were asleep," Nathan interrupted. "it was all a dream."

"That's what happens when you ammnest sick," Skwisgaar agreed, nodding. "You shouldn't have playeds tonight. Nathans, I told you that we should haves pushed the concert backs a littles more. Him and Tokis still weren't better."

"I didn't imagine it!" Pickles cried, sitting up and wiping his eyes. "He was dead and nobody cared! Everyone was gone and he was alone and just..."

"I was _alones?"_Toki's pale eyes flittered down to the floor as he muttered sadly, "I died alones? Wowee..."

"Wow, you're a real dick, Picklesh." Murderface commented, seeing the sad look on the guitarist's face.

"But I—it was _real, _I swear to Gad! I wasn't asleep, it happened!" the drummer insisted, getting to his feet. He noted the skeptical looks on the other musician's faces and added unwaveringly, "I'm tellin' you the truth! I saw what I saw and I'm nat crazy or sick or drunk or high. I'm just-"

"A dick." Nathan repeated, seeing tears shining in Toki's eyes.

"But he was dead, I-"

"Just gives it a rest, idiots." Skwisgaar snapped, placing a careful hand on the Norwegian's shoulder. "Come on, Tokis, lets gos backstage and gets some fan girls to-"

"Why me?" he asked, pulling away from the Swede and turning to face Pickles. "Why was I the one whats has to be dead? Why not Murderface or Nathans or-"

"I dunno, dude."

"So you wants me to die?"

Pickles quickly shook his head. "No, course I don't want that!"

"Then why did you dreams it?" When no answer came, Toki gave him a hurt look then retreated backstage, dragging his guitar behind him.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

****A/N****

**I'm back after a short break in which I drew Metalocalypse fanart and started typing a story with another fanfic writer. Yes, I have set up a DeviantArt account that is called TheLastFlowerchild. I've uploaded Pickles/Toki fanart and plan to add much more, so check it out if you want [Skwisgaar/Toki, Skwisgaar/Pickles...lots of stuff]. ****What's up with Camille? I think that it's a beautiful name, but I've never met a Camille that I've liked-the only one that I know glares at me at lunch for no reason and points and stares at me…she is quite an odd girl. Other than that I hope you're enjoying this story and plan to read more of it. Reviews are appreciated. **

**Peace & Love**


	2. A Lifetime In A Night

_...And our summer together ended  
__Too soon  
__Stronger than farther  
__Strangled by night  
__...This is the sea of doubt  
__which threads harps  
__unwithered  
__& unstrung  
__It's the brother, not the past  
__who turns sunlight into glass  
__It's the valley  
__It's me..._

_~~I Walked Thru...by Jim Morrison_

_**CHAPTER 2: A LIFETIME IN A NIGHT**_

They all sat on the bus that would take them back to Mordland. It was going to be a long ride, especially with everyone giving Pickles looks of remorse and fear. They seemed to think that he was crazy, cracking under the pressure of the non-stop drugs that he took, the booze he downed, the songs he powered thru like a machine...the drummer was able to successfully ignore it until Ofdensen came over and sat down next to him. "I've arranged for you to meet with a specialist about this."

"About what?"

"Pickles," he let out an exasperated sigh, as if he were explaining some complicated process to a stupid child. "you passed out on stage, had a total metal-breakdown in which you kept yelling about how Toki was dead, and-"

"It wasn't no 'breakdown'!" he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"-you did this in front of millions of fans. Do you have any idea how bad this makes the rest of the band look? I don't know if you were high or-"

"I wasn't high!" he argued, glaring at Ofdensen. "I saw something, swear!"

"You saw Toki die?"

Pickles nodded. "Yeah, and it was horrible. I didn't _want _to see it! Gad, everyone's actin' like I fuckin' killed him or something, but it's nat like I asked for it to happen, though, I just..." he let his head fall into his hands. "I'm nat crazy."

"I know that, but perhaps it might help to talk to a specialist."

"You mean a psycho-therapist, right?"

Ofdensen shook his head and said gently, "No, I mean a counselor."

"Which is just a fancy word for therapist." he narrowed his eyes at the man. "You want me to see a shrink? I'm nat crazy, I'm just-"

"You don't have a choice, I'm afraid." Ofdensen interrupted, clearly agitated at the drummer's resistance. "The rest of the band has consulted me on the matter and I have no choice but to oblige them." at the astonished look on Pickles' face, he added in a quiet voice, "I think that it would be a good idea to resolve this before it becomes a real problem, don't you?"

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

Pickles sat across from Twinkletits looking both annoyed and dismal as he answered question after question about his childhood and his drug habits. "So let's see if we can sort out your problem here," Tinkletits had said as soon as the drummer had taken his seat. "I hear you like to get high, is that right?"

"Yep, favorite thing'n the world."

"And why is that?"

He scoffed. "If I knew do you think I'd be here? Oh, and by the way, isn't it sort of _your _jab to figure 'dat out for me? Gad, I didn't know I was doin' your jab for free."

Twinkletits glared at him from across his desk. "Okay then, let's talk about this 'dream' you had—it was about your friend Toki, isn't that right?"

"Obviously." Pickles rolled his eyes.

"You dreamed that he was..."

"Dead."

Twinkletits nodded and let his head rest on his palm. "I see, I see. Now Pickles, often times when someone has an issue with another person, I find it helpful to make them go back and tell me the first memory that they have of that person; does that make sense?"

"Nat really, but I guess I gatta do it, huh?"

He smiled and said cunningly, "Yes, I would appreciate that very much. What's the first memory you have of Toki?"

"I...ah..." the drummer hesitated before lying, "...nothin', I can't remember nothin' about meeting him. I was probably drunk." but in the back of his brain there was a scene emerging, a long-buried, dusty scene. He and his old bassist for _Snakes 'N Barrels_ were making their way thru the crowded, jammed streets of L.A., both talking about a band that they were going to start together. They just needed to think of a name...

"Okay, so all we have to do is find another guitarist and that's it, right?" Tony inquired, giving Pickles a sideways glance. "Then we have a band?"

"We gatta get a drummer too, dude." he answered, putting some hair out of his face; he was nineteen years old, wild-eyed, and sporting white skinny jeans, a wild head of orange hair, and a shirt that showed off his flat stomach. He was a proud glam rocker, one that hoped to become famous by the time he was twenty. So far things were going in the right direction for him—he'd gotten away from his parents, bought himself a Gibson Les Paul Goldtop, and found himself another musician who shared his dream of being a rock star. Yes, Pickles figured that he was doing pretty damn good for himself. Now as he pushed past a small, pale, and skinny boy and followed Tony into a music store, his mind was still stuck on his own band's future.

"Y'know," he said, following the other boy down an isle of CDs, "I bet we're gonna be really famous one day."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Tony commented, picking up a CD and reading the title. "We still haven't even thought of a name for the band yet, man. Don't you think that should come before the fame?"

"Well I can't do all the thinkin'." Pickles mumbled dejectedly. "All you make me do is think."

"No I don't!" he said, giving his companion a wicked grin. "Sometimes I make you _work."_

"That kinda work I like, though." the redhead let Tony kiss him on the lips before walking further down the isle.

"Try to go find some good music," the bassist told him. " 'cause we need some new ideas for songs."

"Yeah." he said, glancing at the CD rack. "Whatever."

He watched as the boy with long, caramel-colored hair—the same one that he'd pushed past outside— entered the store, looking around warily. Normally Pickles wouldn't have given the kid a second glance, but he just looked pitiful standing there like that. He was tired, looked as if he were starving, and his hair hung in long, limp strands around his pale and distressed face. The redhead put down the CD he'd been about to buy and went over towards him, but hesitated. The kid saw him and gave him a little smile, but not much more. Before anything could really be said, Tony was calling from the opposite side of the store, "Hey, Pickles, c'mere! I found a whole rack of _Guns 'N Roses_ albums!"

Pickles rolled his eyes and yelled back, completely oblivious to the deadly looks that the store owner was giving him for being so disruptive. "Dude, I told you I don't like 'dat stupid crap! Look for _Metallica_ then we'll talk!"

"Come _here!" _Tony insisted.

The redhead said huffily, "No, _you_ c'mere if you wanna talk!"

"Come here so I can fuck with you a little!"

Pickles turned red and glanced back at the caramel-haired kid, but the boy was busy looking thru an entire collection of Norwegian black metal stuff. The redhead went over to him, grinned, and pulled a CD out of a nearby rack. "Heya, what's up?"

The kid said nothing for a moment, just continued rooting around, before finally speaking. _"Har de har __noen Mayhem og Emperor musikk her?"_

He laughed and asked cluelessly, "What now, dude?"

The kid looked away, shrugged, and asked with some minor difficulty, "Gots any _Mayhem_ or _Dimmu Borgir_ music here?"

"What's 'dat?"

"Norwegian blacks metal." he answered shyly, pulling up the sleeves of his oversized jacket. He began to look thru a whole other rack before saying, "Can't you speak _Norsk?"_

"Sorry, what?" he tried to look thru the CDs for any signs of the names _Mayhem_ or _Dimmu Borgir,_ but found none. The kid just let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand thru his hair.

"Wowee, this reallys sucks."

Pickles flashed him a small, inviting little smile and inquired, "You ain't from here, are you?"

The kid shook his head and responded with a simple, "Nos."

"Then where you came from?"

"Lillehammer, Norway." Pickles' eyes grew wide. He slapped the kid hard on the shoulder and laughed loudly, making the boy jump in surprise. "What ams funny?"

"You're from Norway? Seriously?"

He nodded. "Ja, seriouslys. Why would I joke?"

"That is so fuckin' _cool! _Dude, I-"

"Pickles, you dick, I called you, like, a hundred times!" Tony said in agitation as he walked over and slipped an arm around the redhead's waist. "Didn't I tell you to come when I call you?" he kissed Pickles and then glanced over to the kid, who was now blushing. "Whose _that?"_

" 'Dat? Oh, 'dat's...uh..."

"Toki Wartooth." the kid said, burying his hands deep down into the pockets of his jacket.

Pickles nodded and said to Tony, "He came from Norway; ain't that cool? Norway's, like, a million miles away, right?"

Tony shrugged. "I dunno, bro. I think it's way on the other side of the world." he gave Toki a disapproving look and said to the redhead, "Hey, I just gotta go ask the manager about this thing—think you can handle yourself 'till I come back?"

He nodded and said snappishly, "I think I can handle myself fine, dude. I ain't a fuckin' two-year-old."

"Oh, little idiot," Tony said affectionately, giving Pickles' ass a firm slap. "you may not be a two-year-old, but you're only nineteen."

"So?"

"I'm twenty-one."

"Yeah, and?" he pried.

Tony gave him a devious smile and said, "So I'm legally responsible for you, to make sure that no one kidnaps your skinny little ass or mugs you or rapes you..."

"Save 'dat last part for later?"

"I always do." and he turned away and walked away from them, that smile still on his face. Once he was gone, Pickles turned back to where Toki had been only to discover that he was gone. The redhead walked around a little and discovered the kid hovering over a bunch of _Metallica _CDs. He went up to him.

"You like _Metallica?"_

Toki shrugged. "Don'ts really listen to much American music." he presented the CD to Pickles and asked, "Ams this a good start?"

"Yeah, sure." he watched Toki pick thru some more CDs before inquiring thoughtfully, "Hey, do you think you could help me out with somethin'?"

"I guess."

"Me and that other guy gat ourselves a band...well, we're _trying _to get ourselves a band, but it's hard, y'know?"

Toki shrugged once more. "Okays, sure."

"But we don't gat a name for it. Whadda think-"

"Snakes." he said simply, turning back to the CD rack. Pickles arched a brow.

"Snakes?"

"Ja," Toki began jamming CDs deep down into his jacket pockets, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that he wasn't being seen. " 'cause everyone ams afraid of snakes, sos I guess it would be goods. I'm not that goods with that stuff, so..."

"Well you've gat good taste in music, at least." Pickles commented, watching as the Norwegian tried to fit more CDs into his pockets. "You're liftin' damn near the whole _Metallica _section." when the kid said nothing, he frowned. "Wait, you _do _have money, right? You ain't broke, are you?"

"Moneys?" he laughed and shook his head. "Nos, can't even buy food." and he paused, took more CDs, then said to Pickles, "You won'ts tell, will yous? I need music, I _needs _it."

"Okay, just calm do-"

"Hey, Red." Tony said to Pickles as he approached them. He didn't hesitate to give the redhead another slap on the ass.

Pickles just glared at him and said dangerously, "Don't call me 'dat, dude."

"S'alright, Red." Tony glanced over at Toki and snickered. "What's with him?"

"He ain't gat no money, so..."

His face lost all signs of joy as he shook his head and said firmly, "No, Pickles, don't you dare say what you're about to."

"...just for one night..."

"No way! He can't even speak English much less-"

"Racist!" Pickles blurted, slapping Toki's shoulder. "Just 'cause he's from Norway you gatta play the race card. I see how it is. I didn't think you were like 'dat, Tony." he gave his boyfriend a big, emotional look and added innocently, "C'mon babe, the kid ain't gat _nowhere _else t'go." he let this sink in before adding sweetly, "Y'know I love you."

Tony let out a loud, frustrated groan and pushed Pickles away from him. "Don't gimme that stupid, annoying look! That dumb look, it's..." his voice faltered and he finally had to admit, "Okay, fine! You win, are you happy? You win with you dumb, fucking adorable look."

Pickles kissed his cheek and laughed. "Knew you'd see things my way, dude!"

"Fuck you."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

After they had left the music store, Tony told Pickles, "I'm heading home, alright? You and that weird little kid can stay out 'till midnight for all I care, just call before you come back to the apartment."

Pickles arched a brow. "Why the fuck should I call? I pay half the rent, so ain't it half mine?"

"Just call." and Tony gave him one final goodbye and a kiss on the lips before turning and walking away. Once he had left, the redhead turned to Toki and grinned.

" 'Kay, let's go. I gatta show you L.A."

Toki followed him closely and they barley talked; finally the two came upon an old guitar shop. Pickles entered it without a second thought and Toki followed, looking around warily. "Why ams we here?"

" 'Cause I need to see a dude about a-"

"Pickle, what ams that?" the kid exclaimed, his voice full of wonder as he pointed to a shining Gibson guitar.

The redhead approached it, running a hand thru his wild head of orange hair. He studied it only for a second before saying smartly, "That would be a Gibson Flying V electric guitar; released in '58, first productions were made usin' korina wood." he itched at his chin in thought and recited by heart, "Lotsa big musicians used Gibsons—Hendrix, Slash, Lennon, Van Halen..."

"Who ams all those people?"

"Guys in bands and stuff like that."

"Ohs." Toki's eyes shined as he pressed a hand to the sleek body of the guitar. "How much ams it?"

"Too expensive for us, dude." Pickles said, putting his hands on his hips. "Anyways, you ain't gat no money, so-"

"I forgots." he turned and walked away gloomily, making the redhead immediately regret his words. Okay, so maybe one little, small favor couldn't hurt...the kid had just arrived in America, so didn't he deserve a little something for his long trip? He seemed like an okay guy, after all...

"Hey, Toki, wait." Pickles said, pulling the kid back over to him. "Look, what about if I just buy it for you?"

"Ands teach me how to plays it?"

He bit his lower lip and glanced at the price tag of the guitar. It was a classic, and classics were always expensive, far out of his price range...still, he supposed the kid deserved it, and he couldn't rightly deny those shining, blue eyes anything they wanted. "Okay, sure. I'll teach you how to play it, alright?"

The kid nodded and let out billion thank-yous as the redhead pulled the guitar down from its display and lugged it over to the cashier. The man who stood behind his finely polished counter was dressed in all black—tattered jeans, a frayed shirt, straight hair dyed half red and half ebony, and about a dozen piercings. He smiled at Pickles as the guitar was placed carefully on the counter. "Hey, Red. Whadda need now?"

"This guitar."

The man tugged at a nose ring and laughed, shaking his head. "That ain't for sale, just for show, Red."

"Don't call me 'dat and just take the money that I fuckin' give you."

The cashier arched a brow. "How much's in your pocket, Red?"

Pickles narrowed his green eyes at the man. It was bad enough that the guy called him that, but almost all of his sentences ended with it. _Red, Red, Red. _He had to work hard to contain his frustration as he pulled out his thin wallet and presented the cashier with two hundred-dollar bills. "Got payed last night for doin' 'dat gig down at the bar. Just take the money and lemme have the damn Gibson, okay?"

"Why should I? That thing's a classic and I won't take nothin' less than fifty-grand for it." he glanced over at Toki, as if seeing him for the first time, and let out a little scoff. "Who's _he, _a replacement for Tony?"

"He just came." Pickles said, pushing the money towards the man; he didn't take it. Instead he just continued to stare curiously at Toki.

"From where?"

"Norway, but what's it matter? Just gimme the damn-"

"Hey, kid, maybe you should go play somewhere else while me and your friend argue over a price."

Toki glanced from Pickles to the man before quietly turning and walking away over towards another guitar. He still watched Pickles haggle with the cashier out of the corner of his eye, though. "Look, dude, just cut me a break!" the redhead begged. "Please! You've known me forever!"

"You've been buying strings from me forever," he said, crossing his arms over his bony chest. "But now you're just askin' me to _give away _a priceless piece of history that's worth at least-"

"Gimme a discount!"

The man tugged some more at his nose ring before sighing dramatically nd saying, "Okay, Cheese, fine. You've got me. You're an alright guy, been a good customer here for a while..." Cheese. Pickles cursed the fact that he was from Wisconsin. Maybe being called Red was better than something like Milwaukee or Cheese...

"C'mon, you know I'm good at-" he hushed his voice as he whispered, "-_other stuff."_

The cashier chuckled and then began fingering his lip piercing. "Okay, fair enough. You have been good at _other stuff _too, so I guess I can cut you a break. You have two hundred, right?"

"Right..."

"So pay that now and say-" he twisted his face in thought before saying, "-eight later."

Pickles sighed and ran a hand along the Gibson's strings. "A thousand bucks for one damn guitar? My Goldtop cost-"

"You got your little play-toy at a fuckin' Pawn Shop, man." the cashier said, laughing darkly. "No offense, but that guitar you drag onstage every other night is total crap."

"No it ain't, it's a classic!"

"And so's this one." the man smiled wickedly before adding, "C'mon Redhead, you know more'n anyone that classics don't come cheap."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know."

"Y'know," he said in an undertone as he reached for Pickles' hand, "I still remember that _other stuff _you did to land that bass you wanted to buy for Tony."

"Fuck aff." Pickles hissed, turning red and glancing at Toki. The cashier pulled back and a mortified look came across his pale face at the rejection.

The man was able to recover quickly; he smiled over at the kid and asked calmly, "So he's the latest, huh?" his finger crept back to his lip ring as he continued in a steady voice, "You could do better, Red. You've had me, Tony, and who else—that owner of the bar you like playin' at so much? He pays you good, don't he?"

"Shut it!" Pickles snapped, slamming his money down on the counter. "I do what I gatta do to get ahead, you know 'dat!"

"And you're ahead alright with him." he snickered and gave the redhead a sweet smile. "Oh, c'mon, I'm just kidding! I know you'd never go for him...he's like, what, ten years old?"

Toki, who had been pretending to look at pack of guitar strings, blurted out, "Fourteens!"

The cashier arched a heavily pierced brow—that was smudged with eyeliner—and asked, "What'd you say, kid?"

"I'ms fourteen."

"Oh wow, what a catch." and he rolled his black, shining eyes and took Pickles' money. "I'll do it, but only 'cause I don't need the money. Take your guitar and-"

"I need a pack of strings, too." he said, breaking out his wallet again and dumping all of its contents out onto the counter. A shiny array of pennies, nickles, and dimes rolled out and onto the floor, and the cashier looked upon them with a melancholy expression.

"Fuck, man, you're robbing me!"

"Please? It's all I gat!"

He said huffily, "Fine, but I expect to see you here next week at eight."

"Date?"

"Maybe if I'm in the mood, otherwise we'll just skip it and get to the good stuff."

Pickles groaned. "Please let's just go get some food or somethin'?"

" 'Please let's just go get some food or somethin'," the cashier imitated in a very bad Wisconsin accent. An annoyed look came over his face as he inquired, "Do you want the damn strings or not?"

The redhead hesitated before asking shyly, "I guess 'dis would be a bad time to talk about picks?"

He pondered this, glanced over at Toki, and whispered with a hungry look on his face, "What about him? I'll give you the picks, the strings, and the stupid guitar for one night with him."

"Why him? He's just a kid!"

"But he's a virgin, right?"

Pickles shrugged. "I dunno. He looks like one, I guess."

"Then I want him."

The redhead sneered in disgust at the man's behavior. "Dude, you're sick."

"And you're poor, so give me what I want or-"

"I don't care what you wanna give me—you could offer me the whole Gad damn store—but I ain't gonna let you a foot _near _that kid."

Toki walked back over to where Pickles stood and smiled with a sort of simple childlike happiness. "Heys, Pickle."

"Yeah, heya, kid." he said, quickly turning his attention back to the cashier. "I'll let you take a night with me."

"You still with Tony?" the man questioned, depositing the redhead's money into the cash register. When Pickles nodded, he chortled and said sarcastically, "Lots of loyalty for the carrot-top, right? What a complete fucking idiot you're going out with! God, he fucks around with _everyone, _Red! Jesus-fucking-Christ! You'd be better off with m-"

"Dude, I'm never goin' out with you." Pickles interrupted coolly, picking up his guitar and walking over to where the strings were. "You'll won't have to put up with me for much longer, though."

The cashier became a little dismal. "Oh really? Why?"

"We've nearly gat a band together, and when we do manage to find another guitarist and a drummer, we're gonna get ourselves a record deal."

"How do you go on stage with just bass and guitar, anyways?"

"Hire out some drunks to play with us, but we're about to get someone for real."

"Hmm." he let his head rest on his palm as he said, "You know, I do play guitar—no, wait! Didn't you hear about the blond kid who came by here earlier this week?"

Pickles turned towards him and frowned. "What kid? How old?"

"Swear to God he musta been a couple years older than that one-" he pointed to Toki. "-and he had long, blond hair and a skull on his belt. He looked fucked up, but he bought about a dozen packs of strings, a new pick, and then left. Never saw a sign of him again, but while he was in here he played a little for me and he sounded like Hendrix."

The redhead rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Ain't nobody alive that sounds like Hendrix, dude."

"This kid did. He played fast—_faster-_than Jimi."

Now Pickles began laughing. "No way, dude! I've been playin' for years and I'm no where near as good as-"

"I'm tellin' you, this kid was a miracle with that Gibson."

"He had a Gibson?"

The cashier nodded. "An Explorer, and he played it like a God. When I asked him what his name was, he said something like Squi...I dunno. Couldn't really understand him. He had an accent. He kinda sounded a little like your new Tony."

"He ain't my new-"

"Likes me?" Toki cut Pickles off.

The man nodded, pulled the Norwegian a little closer to the counter, and began playing with his lip ring once more. "Yep, and he left like a ghost—never saw him again." he gave the caramel-haired haired boy a sweet, warm smile and asked kindly, "You have any place to stay tonight, kid?"

"I...um..."

"Yeah he does," Pickles said irritably. "With _me, _and I'd really like it if you would stap tryin' to fuck him."

"It ain't a crime to be horny, Red." he said bitterly. "You should know that." and as Pickles and Toki turned to leave, the cashier called after them, "He's only fourteen, right Red? Wouldn't that be considered rape of a juvenile or whatever?"

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

Later that day they sat down to a cheap lunch of burgers and coke. Thankfully Pickles had managed to bum a few extra dollars off of one of his friends and he was able to secure them a little bit of food. As he handed Toki his burger, the kid looked at him with a mixture of affection and confusion. That look had been on his face ever since they'd first left the music store. Pickles chose not to comment on it, though, and he took a seat next to the boy on a bench with the brand new Gibson, strings, and picks at his feet. Finally Toki worked up the courage to ask innocently, "Pickle, I'ms not really sure how America works, but I've seen a lots of people touching you. Ams that bad?"

"Depends on what kind people," he commented, taking a sip of his coke.

"Likes that one guy with the hat and-"

"Y'mean Tony?"

Toki nodded, his pale eyes shining with curiosity. "Ja, ands that guy who worked at the store that smelled likes booze." he paused to take a large bite out of his burger before adding, "Ams that normal? 'Cause in Lillehammer, people only does that kinds of stuff to each other ifs they ams in love."

"I do love them—Tony."

"Whats abouts the other guy?"

"I...well..." Pickles sighed as he struggled to find a way to explain his actions. In the end all he could come up with was, "Look, Toki, you know better'n anyone how hard it is to make it an your own, right?"

He nodded. "Rights."

"And so sometimes we have to _sacrifice _something to gain something, and sometimes what we give up ain't just money."

"What ams it?"

"Well..." he swallowed down some more of his drink before saying awkwardly, "It's sex."

Toki turned red and chewed on the straw of his coke. "Oh. So you haves sex to get whats you want, like a strippers or something?"

Pickles' eyes grew wide. "Wow. For a fourteen-year-old kid who ain't never stayed in America, you sure are smart."

"But that's what you're doings!" he insisted.

"No it ain't! I really do love Tony, I swear to Gad! It's just that we ain't gat that much money, and sometimes you've gotta do some stuff to make ends meet, y'know? That guy in the music store was a real perv, though, always has been." and thoughtlessly he added, "He even wanted to fuck _you, _for Christ's sa—"

Me? Ams that why he kept looking at me and licking his lips likes that?"

Pickles felt his face burning as he admitted, "Yeah, guess it was. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to know...I told him no, though, that I'd kill him if he even looked at you weird."

"Thanks." he said glumly, eating some more. They were silent for a long while before Toki resumed the conversation. "But that guy saids that Tony cheats on you a lots, so why ams you even with him?"

" 'Cause I love him." Pickles answered honestly, smiling shyly down at his food.

Nothing else had ever been more real for him in his life. As soon as he'd met the slender, dark-haired bassist, he'd felt something inside of him just _click, _as if two parts of him were meshing together. He'd never felt like that with anyone before. It was as if Tony was some other part of him that he'd been missing; he was funny, sexy, and talented...just perfect. Still, it did feel odd to say that he loved him aloud. Although it was a known fact that Tony and Pickles were together, neither one of them had ever bothered to admit it before. They never even asked the other one out—the first time that Pickles had 'gone out' with Tony, it had been to the movies. The bassist had told him to get in the car, that they were going to find something to do besides sitting at home and practicing. By the time Pickles had realized that it was a date, he was laying naked in the back of the bassist's car, moaning as he felt the other man thrust into him. Now as he looked at Toki, all he could do was smile like an idiot and say, "Yeah, I love him; he's great, isn't he?"

The kid shrugged. "I don't knows. I guess he ams. I don't think he liked me much, though."

He shook his head and continued eating. "Nah, he's just like 'dat when I hang around with other guys and chicks and stuff. He gets jealous real easy, but just as long as we don't hang out too much he'll be fine."

"So he doesn't want you to cheats on him but he can cheats on you? That don't make much sense." Toki commented, picking at some dried mud that caked his oversized boots.

"You don't know what love is, you're just a kid."

"And how old ams you?"

"Nineteen."

Toki scoffed. "Ja, 'cause you ams so much older and sos much smarter than I ams."

"Shut up, already." Pickles said, devouring the rest of his burger. "Hurry up an' eat so I can call Tony and tell him we're comin' over."

"Fines, go ahead and calls him."

The redhead took his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed a number, and waited. Finally he said into it, "Hey, Tony, you there? Dude, I know you're there, pick up the damn phone." a pause then, "Tony, you fuckin' moron, pick up the stupid, douchebag phone right _now! _Okay, now you're just pissin' me aff..." his cheeks were red with embarrassment and anger as he yelled into the cell, "Are you drunk or are you screwing around with that dude who lives downstairs? Okay, you know what, I don't care what you're doin', me and Toki are coming home and we're bringing strings and picks, so don't go and buy none. Bye. I-" he hesitated. Should he? Did he dare? Yes, he did. "-love you, babe. Bye." and he hung up the phone, jammed it in his pocket, and smiled over at Toki cunningly. "See? He loves me."

The kid rolled his eyes and finished drinking his coke. "Ja, sures he does."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

"Tony, we're home!" Pickles declared, knocking on the door to the shabby apartment that he and the other man shared. He handed Toki the guitar and the other things and pounded hard on the door, kicked it a little with his boot. "Open up, we're _HOME!" _

When no answer came, Pickles let out a yell of rage and slammed his whole scrawny body against the door, nearly in tears. Toki gave him a concerned look and asked, "What ams wrong? So what if the door ams locked, we can-"

"It ain't about the d-d-door!" he panted, trying to hold back his tears of shame and heartbreak. "He only does this when he's in there fuckin' with someone else." In humiliation, he kicked the door again and yelled, "Open up the door, you Gad damned idiot!"

"Hold on a minute, asshole!" Tony howled from the other side of the door. Sounds of whispering and shuffling could be heard before the door was unlocked and they were allowed to enter. Pickles went in first, panting and nearly sobbing. He glanced around the apartment and motioned over to an empty bottle of cheap wine.

"Thought you were savin' 'dat for us."

"I was, but..."

"But what, Tony?"

"I...uh..." he went over and sat down on the table. "I got thirsty."

"Uh-huh, sure you did." and Pickles went over and threw himself onto the couch, kicked the bottle to the side, and switched on the T.V.

Tony watched him and glanced over at Toki, noticed the guitar he was holding, and said in exasperation, "You idiot, you bought him a damn Gibson? We can't even afford-"

"To be honest, huh?"

"What is it about now?" he asked, stifling an annoyed sigh.

"You locked the door!"

"And you chose to spend the day with him, that stupid kid!" Tony walked over to where Toki stood with his long, stringy hair and over-sized jacket; he asked the kid, "Can you even understand English, you stupid little prick? Can you understand that I don't ever wanna see you so much as talking to Pickles ever again, and if I do I'll fuck your ass up so bad that you won't even be able to-"

"Tony, leave the kid alone!" Pickles yelled warningly, rising to his feet and walking over to where Toki stood trembling and full of fear. "It ain't about him!"

"And what was with your message? _I love you, babe? _Do you know how embarrassing that was?" Tony asked, turning on the redhead. "Now you come home smelling like cheap booze, like that stupid guy that works down at the guitar store drinks!"

"You think I'd ever fuck with that idiot?"

"You go over there damn near every day!" Tony said, glaring at Pickles. "When you drag me over there all I ever see you do is drool over him like a damn prick!"

"Pickle, maybe I shoulds go?"

"No!" Tony exclaimed, grabbing Toki's wrist and pulling him close. _"You're _not going anywhere! If anything, Pickles should leave!"

"Fine, I will!" the redhead cried, wiping at the tears that were gathering at the corners of his eyes. He walked out the door without a second thought. Before he could even make it downstairs, he had thought of something else to say to Tony, so without hesitation he turned and began to make his way back up the six flights of stairs that lead to his apartment. He got there and boldly strode in, not even bothering to knock. What he saw made him want to vomit.

Tony hadn't even thought twice after Pickles had left—he had jumped on top of Toki, pulled off the kid's jacket and his shirt, and had pressed his lips to his. As Pickles walked in, he was busy stroking the fourteen-year-old's firm erection; he kissed him, buried his tongue deep down in Toki's mouth, and made the kid let out a weak little moan. Pickles' eyes grew wide at this display as he hurried to rip Tony away from the Norwegian.

"Leave him alone!" he demanded, throwing Tony to the ground. Toki blushed, tried to cover the erection that was showing very clearly thru his jeans. Tony, however, would not be as easily quelled. He glared at the redhead.

"It was just a kiss and he _asked _me to do it!"

"No he didn't!"

"How are you so sure?"

" 'Cause Toki knows I love you!" Pickles said, beginning to cry. "He...he knows and he'd never-"

"Fine," Tony admitted. "he didn't ask for the kiss, but once he got it he begged me for more, practically jacked _himself _off!"

"You..." the redhead looked away from the other man's dark, meaningful eyes, knowing that his words were most likely the truth, and instructed coldly, "Get out. We'll talk in the morning."

"Talk about what?"

"Us."

Tony rolled his eyes as he left the room. "I'm not even sure if there ever was an 'us' to begin with." and just like that, he was gone. Toki stared up at Pickles for a long while before whispering cautiously, "Pickle, I didn't—I'd nevers..."

"Go get a shower or somethin'." he said quietly, going over to the couch and falling onto it numbly. The Norwegian didn't, though. Instead he grabbed his guitar, crawled over to where the redhead was, and nudged him lightly.

"You said you'd teach mes."

"No offense, but I really don't feel like it right now, dude." he said, putting a hand over his eyes. Toki didn't back down. Instead he just pulled his jacket over his bare shoulders, zipped it up, and then began strumming uselessly at the guitar until Pickles seized it and sat down next to him. "S'simple thing to learn," he said gently, showing Toki how to place his fingers on the neck of the Gibson. "but it takes practice." he passed the eager Norwegian the guitar and urged, "Go ahead and hold it like I just showed you."

Toki took it, placed his fingers awkwardly over the strings, and frowned in confusion. "They won'ts do likes yours do."

"Like _this." _Pickles took Toki's hand and placed his fingers manually in the correct positions before nodding in satisfaction. "Now just strum somethin' simple...I know!" he went over, got his Goldtop, and played an easy riff on it before saying to Toki, "Go ahead, just like—put your hair back, it'll get in your face."

It was clear by the way it hung down to his slender hips that the kid's hair hadn't been cut in years. Toki distractedly put handfuls of it behind his ears, but this still wasn't good enough; strands fell into the strings, made his fingers slip, and caused him irritation. Pickles took a rubber band off of his own wrist and handed it to him. "Here, put it up."

"I...I can'ts..." he blushed and snapped the band awkwardly. The redhead sighed hopelessly.

"You don't know how to put it up?" when Toki shook his head, he took the band back, crawled behind him, and gently ran his hands thru the Norwegian's long hair. "Hmm." he said, gathering it up. "You gat really long hair. Do all dudes in Norway grow it out like 'dis?"

"Nos." Toki said.

Once Pickles had finished putting the kid's hair into a messy, loose ponytail, he went and sat back across from the Norwegian. After a few hours of playing, Toki was getting along quite well and didn't need the other teenager to help him nearly as much. Pickles gave him a smile and encouraged, "Good, you're doin' an amazing jab, dude. I can't believe...you're picking it up so fast. Did you learn it before?"

"Nos, you just ams a good teacher." Toki said gratefully, playing a different tune. The redhead's smile faded into a look of curious tenderness as he watched the kid strum the strings; the boy moved his fingers gracefully and fluidly up and down the length of the guitar, as if he'd spent his whole life playing. He had slender fingers, not at all like Tony...Tony had large, heavily callused hands...Toki's were small and almost feminine in their fair softness. If he kept playing like that, though, they'd grow hard and callused too. Such a loss, Pickles thought. It almost wasn't worth it.

"I'ms doing good?"

"Yeah, perfect."

"You ams staring at me again."

"Oh." he looked down at his Goldtop. "Sorry." Toki had already scolded him several times for staring at him. 'I don't likes to be looked at', he had said meekly, blushing. Now he just played that guitar, only half focused on Pickles. Finally the redhead could stand it no more. He had to know. "Toki?"

"Ja?" he played the tune to _Sweet Child 'O Mine _out on his Gibson.

"I gatta ask—I'm sorry, I just have to. When you were kissin' Tony, did he-"

"He saids that if you didn't come back, he was goings to fuck me." Toki swallowed but didn't miss a note as he said quietly, "So thanks for comings back."

"I..." Pickles felt his heart ripping in half as he nodded and responded hoarsely, "S'fine, dude."

"I...I don't thinks that I would have liked for hims to fucks me." the Norwegian whispered, almost seeming to be terrified at the notion of it. "That's alreadys happened to me once, and once ams enough..."

"What's happened to you once?"

Suddenly Toki had abandoned his guitar and was hugging Pickles tightly, struggling not to cry as he said wretchedly, "You ams the best friend I ever hads, Pickle."

"I—what's wrong, dude?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't likes me anymore. Nobody likes me after I tells them, not even my parents..."

"Told me what?" a feeling of crushing dread entered the redhead's heart as he forced Toki to look up and meet his piercing green gaze. As he stared into those large, tear-filled greyish-blue eyes, a new question came to his mind. Suddenly Toki didn't appear nearly as innocent as he had been earlier that day, and that innocence is what Pickles was sure he had been attracted to in the kid. He normally didn't go up and talk to complete strangers, or follow them around record stores and buy them thousand-dollar guitars...he felt an odd sort of something bubbling up inside him as he smiled down kindly at Toki and asked in a whisper, "Toki, are you a virgin?" he didn't know what made this the question that slipped past his lips, but he knew that it had to be answered, because clearly it was a complicated subject for the kid. Toki tried to look away, but Pickles caught him and made him look up at him again. Relentlessly he demanded, "Are you a virgin?"

"N-No."

"How'd you lose it?"

"I..." he didn't need to say anything, the answer was clear enough in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak and faltered. _I didn't WANT to lose it._

"Toki, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I didn'ts want to..." he blinked back tears and whispered painfully, "...you knows, lose it."

"I know." he said, beginning to cry. "I know and I'm sorry I asked. I-" he could only hug Toki to him and murmur over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Pickle?"

"Gad, I'm sorry..."

"Do you still likes me?"

"What?" he pulled away, saw the wonderful affection reflecting in Toki's eyes along with that old horror of what he was probably remembering now, and nodded. "Of course I do!" he was shaking as he took the Norwegian's hands in his own. "I'm just sorry that it was like _that, _y'know? You didn't deserve..." Who did honestly deserve to be raped? Anyone? No, he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Tony had raped him a few times when he was drunk, and he knew that it wasn't something that you could just walk off the next morning. It _hurt. _Bad. At least he had known Tony, at least the bassist had cared somewhat for him and gone easy on him. Toki probably hadn't had this advantage.

"I tolds people, but they didn't believes me." Toki commented, his voice a shallow whisper of pain at the memory. "They saids I was bad..."

"You're not bad, you're the best, most perfect person in the world." Pickles said, putting a hand to the Norwegian's cheek. Just as he did this, as his palm came in contact with that soft, forgiving warm skin, he realized that he hadn't been crying over Tony earlier, it had been over _Toki. _He hadn't been so emotional and jealous because of Tony, it had been because he had been forced to see Toki getting pleasured like that from someone that wasn't himself. That old attraction for the Norwegian returned to him, and in a moment he was having to struggle to not kiss the kid. "I...Toki, you know that if you don't want it, it don't count, right?"

"It _felt _likes it counted." he blushed and closed his eyes tightly, let a few tears run down his fair cheeks. "It hurt reallys bad—does it hurts like that every time you haves sex?"

"No, not if you do it with someone who really loves you." Pickles wiped the tears from Toki's face and held him, cradled him to his chest. "It's supposed to be somethin' that's real slow and sweet."

"I wish I that's what it had beens like."

"I know, but I..." he swallowed nervously and adjusted himself so that Toki could feel his throbbing hard need. "I wanna give that to you—what you had taken away."

The Norwegian's eyes snapped open and he stared up at Pickles, a shocked look on his face. "But you saids that you only really fucked people whats who you loved."

"I _do _love you." he he kissed Toki's cheek lightly and whispered in his ear, "Gad, I love you so much."

"Wills it-" he was cut off as the redhead kissed him on the lips. "-wills you hurt me?"

"No, never."

"You swears?"

"On my life." he embraced Toki, felt the boy's heartbeat pounding against him, and smiled a little.

He knew that in the morning he might regret his actions, think them sick and wrong—screwing a fourteen-year-old kid didn't qualify him to be the toughest guy in the world, after all—but right now he just knew that he loved Toki. It was genuine and persistent, much stronger than the feelings he had felt for Tony. _Feelings. _Had what he felt for the bassist really been love? As he watched Toki slip out of his baggy jacket, he felt as if what he had felt for that other man was laughable. Toki's back was scarred deeply with long, thin lines. Pickles pressed his fingers to them, made goosebumps rise out of the gentle, smooth flesh. He kissed the Norwegian's back, nipped at it, creating red marks on the fair skin. Toki let out a little hiss as Pickles bit down a little too hard, and all at once the redhead was pulling away, apologizing. He just smiled and kissed Pickles' cheek.

"It's fine. I trust you."

Toki's body wasn't as developed as Pickles', but that didn't matter much when it all came down to it. The Norwegian was just a kid, after all, barley entering his teenage years, and he still had quite a ways to go as far as growing was concerned. His skin was smooth, pearly, and perfect as far as Pickles was concerned; his body was slender and appeared to be light and delicate, but was just built enough to give the boy the faintest outlines of smooth muscle. Toki would grow into something truly amazing, a beautiful shadow of what Pickles would become, the redhead was sure, but none if it really mattered quite then. As he pressed down his naked body against the Norwegian's, he felt the boy tense up beneath him. Instinctively he stopped and looked up into Toki's pale eyes.

"I...nobody's ever..." the kid struggled to find the right words before finally saying with some difficulty, "...you look at me so weirds, like you-"

"I want you." Pickles kissed Toki's flat stomach, licked at it with his tongue, and treasured the taste of the other teenager's youthful lust. "Haven't you ever had anyone want you like this before?"

"No, but I kinds of...your eyes, they're the happiest I've seens them all day, even when I saw you with Tony." he smiled down at Pickles. "You really do loves me, don't you?"

He gave an immediate nod and stared at Toki's fully naked body. It seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. The Norwegian blushed and tried to cover himself up somewhat, hide himself from Pickles' traveling eyes, and the redhead frowned down at him. "What's wrong? Gad, you really never have been with someone like this, have you? You're so scared..."

Toki was trembling, trying not to let fresh tears slip down his cheeks. "I just...I've never let anyone see me likes this..."

"You want to stop?"

"N-No."

"Then what's wrong? Look," Pickles sat up, exposing his nakedness to the Norwegian. "I'm just as naked as you, just as nervous."

"But you're perfect." he pressed a hand to the redhead's chest, felt his entire torso, every flexing muscle.

"And I think you're beautiful." Pickles whispered, shivering under Toki's touch. "Gad, you're so amazing...you've got a fuckin' awesome body."

"I...okays." he blushed, let the other man touch his thigh. "Go ahead, dos it." he closed his eyes, braced himself for the ripping, searing pain that was to come, but found none. Pickles entered him, kissed him, took his hands and squeezed them, went slowly and carefully.

Eventually those kisses became deeper, filled with licking, tormentingly delicious tongues that wound themselves together and played; the slow sweetness of the love-making became faster, rigorous, and lustful. All at once, Pickles found himself reliving all of his most horrible, painful moments with Tony. Dimly he recalled the first night that he and the bassist had been together in the back of that car. 'You're going to let me fuck you', the man had said, pressing Pickles down into the cold leather seat of the car. 'and you're gonna like it, 'cause you make me so damn horny...' Tony had been drunk, hadn't know what he was doing. Pickles knew now what to do, though. He knew exactly how to push Toki slowly to the edge of pleasure without casing him any agony. As if to prove this, he began taking the Norwegian faster and more forcefully, just so he could hear the sounds of their love-making and feel Toki open up more and take him.

The orgasm came all at once, unexpectedly as he watched Toki's hair slipping out of his rubber band and falling in loose, sweat-drenched strands on his bare and damp shoulders. "I...I..." the Norwegian struggled to say as Pickles filled him with his love. _"God."_

"Sssh, s'fine." he said, pressing a shaking hand to Toki's sweaty cheek. "I know, I-"

"_Jeg elsker deg!"_

"Oh Toki," he moaned, holding the kid close to him, feeling the Norwegian's panting, desperate orgasm. "It's fine, it's okay."

In a moment Toki was sobbing; he wrapped his arms around Pickles' neck and cried into him, "God, oh my Gods..."

"I know." he repeated, looking down and watching as the last bit of cum dripped from Toki's erect and throbbing cock. Nothing more was said as they laid down together. Pickles looked over and smiled at the Norwegian. Toki looked exhausted, so spent and drained. Clearly he'd never in his life experienced what it felt like to really have genuine, good sex with someone that you love. Carefully, the redhead reached out and put some of the Norwegian's brown hair out of his face. "I like to see your face," he explained in a whisper. " 'cause you've gat such a nice face."

Toki gave him a sleepy grin. _"Jeg elsker deg." _and with those last words, he laid his head on Pickles' chest and went to sleep.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

Before the sun had even risen over the skyline of L.A., an insistent knock came at the door of the apartment. Pickles was the one who woke up—Toki was still far too exhausted to take note of anything in the world outside his dreams. He quickly pulled on his pants and went to open the door. Tony stood on the other side, a look of bright excitement on his face. He pulled Pickles outside, closed the door, and said, "Look, dude, good news—I found us a drummer and a guitarist!"

The redhead's eyes grew wide in the minimal light of the hall. "What? Where?"

"After I left I went out to the Strip and drove to this bar. There were two guys sittin' together at a table, so I went up and turns out they're in the same boat we're in." his dark eyes shined magnificently as he said, "They need us and we need them, ain't it fuckin' perfect?"

"Yeah, great!"

"But there's something else," Tony continued. "There's a record company that called me back and told me that if we can show up to their recording studio in three days with a full band, then they'll sign us!"

All at once Pickles felt about a thousand pounds of cold worry lifting from his shoulders. This was it, this is what it felt like to make it big, wasn't it? Finally all of his hard work and screwing around was paying off. " 'Dat's amazing! Unbelievable! Where's the studio?"

"That's the thing..." Tony said, quickly turning serious. "It's way up in San Francisco."

That was it, his heart fell into the pit of his stomach. Pickles shook his head and leaned against the door to his apartment. "No way, dude. Me and Toki, we're-"

"Listen, I don't care what the fuck you did to that kid, I'll take you back." the bassist said, giving the redhead a warm, forgiving smile. "And I'm sorry we fought, now just go inside, get your Goldtop and your stuff and let's go! We gotta get on the road _right now!"_

"But...Toki..." he looked down and admitted, "I can't go, nat without him."

"Come _on, _man!" Tony sighed and rolled his eyes. "This is our chance! We'll make it big this time, I swear!"

"But you want me to leave him, just like that?" Pickles demanded, feeling the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. "I can't do that to him!"

"Then we'll replace you and get some other sorry son of a bitch to make it big with us!" the other man challenged. "I don't care, Red. We're going with our without you, make your choice."

"I..." Pickles thought for a long moment. This was it, his dream staring him right in the face. He'd be a fool not to seize it, right? Finally he said, "Fine, just gimme a second to go get my stuff, alright?"

"I'll be waiting out in the car." Tony turned to go, but before he did he gave Pickles a kiss and whispered, "Thanks, man."

"Whatever." he went back into the apartment. Toki was still sleeping soundly, hugging a pillow to his bare and bony chest. Pickles went over, knelt down next to him, and ran a hand thru his hair.

"I love you, you know 'dat, right?"

Toki just let out a little moan in his sleep and shifted a little. The redhead leaned down and kissed him once before murmuring, " 'Cause I really do love you no matter what, 'kay? I don't wanna go, but this is _it, _Toki! This is the only chance I'm ever gonna get! I'll come back for you, though, and I'll be rich and we won't have to live offa hamburgers and coke no more...we'll be together, just you and me, alright?" the Norwegian still remained asleep. Without another word Pickles turned, grabbed his guitar, a change of clothes, the last bottle of cheap wine, then went out the door.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

He remembered all of this while staring at Twinkletits. Still, as the therapist repeated the question, "So you don't have any memories of when you met Toki?" Pickles shook his head and looked down.

"No," he said bluntly, feeling himself grow numb. "none at all."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

****A/N****

**Sorry this took so long to put up. Juggling this along with my fan art's a challenge, but a fun one. Yeah, this chapter was long, but I had to get it done now. Hope you enjoyed it and remember that reviews are appreciated. **

**Peace & Love**


	3. Dalla

_The end of the rainbow_

_put all my screaming phantasies  
__into one giant  
__Box-trap_

_~~The End Of The Rainbow by Jim Morrison_

_**CHAPTER 3: DALLA**_

There was nothing to do but stare up at the blank ceiling. Hell, there was nothing that he _could _do, not after remembering all of that. It had drained him, made him feel utterly horrible. He'd blocked it out for years, so why in God's name had he had to bring it all up again now, during one of the worst, most confusing times of his life? Confusing, that's what it was. Deep in some long dead part of his heart, he really did feel a growing flicker of love towards Toki, and he wondered what he would look like naked now...would his body still be as slender, as delicate-looking as before? Would the drummer still be afraid that just a mere brush of his fingertips across that fair and creamy skin be enough to make the Norwegian shatter into a million pieces? Pickles swallowed, felt his entire body fill with the agonizing feeling of embarrassment. It was no small wonder that Toki had never really seemed to be fully open with him; he didn't run to Pickles when he needed something, it was Skwisgaar or even Nathan at times. In fact, he tried to avoid the drummer as much as he could, and usually their only conversations happened in the confines of the recording studio.

"Pickle, can you tunes this for me?" Toki might ask offhandedly, passing the redhead his guitar. Pickles would take it, tune it for him, then pass it back with the dull murmur of, "There y'go, dude." And that was it, that was the norm—nothing more, and certainly nothing less.

Pickles covered his face with a pillow and shut his eyes tightly against his mounting shame. What kind of person was he? Clearly Toki was still bitter towards him for leaving him, and it was only now—after _Dethklok _had been together for so long—that he chose to notice? Was he really that clueless and stupid? He hated himself for what he had done...he imagined what it would have been like to wake up with Toki that morning and see his face, that sweet little smile of endearment engraved on it.

'I loves you, Pickle,' he would have said.

But he left. He had abandoned him, like what they had shared was nothing but a meaningless one-night sand. Pickles felt something bubbling up in his chest and didn't realize what it was until he was yelling into his pillow; it was rage. It wasn't towards Toki, but towards himself for the dire mistake that he had made. The drummer was intelligible, and for one moment he thought that he must be really going crazy. Slowly his fit of rage simmered down and he quickly realized that he was exhausted. Eventually he was able to fall into a fitful sleep, one in which he was alone and staring at a white wall. On it was a single plain, ticking clock. Everything was so silent that he could hear its insistent grinding gears and moving hands. The numbers danced like liquid fire before his eyes, melted and ran down the otherwise simple white face.

_Tick._

Twelve o'clock.

_Tock._

Three o'clock.

_Tick._

Six o'clock.

_Ticktock-Ticktock-Ticktock..._

He was going insane.

_...TICKTOCK-TICKTOCK-TICKTOCK-TICK..._

Silence. Crushing, ear-splitting silence. It was like that for what seemed like hours until all at once he was met with the sounds of fire, screaming, and glass being broken. It was the loudest, most painful thing he'd ever heard in his life, and all he could bring himself to do was cover his ears, hug his knees to his chest, and beg for it to stop. Somehow he found himself yelling out, though his voice made no actual sound, "Toki, help me, save me please! Damn it, do_ something! _Please, Toki, please...I'm sorry, Gad, I'm sorry for what I did, I'm-"

The sounds of that slaughter became unbearable, and soon he was sobbing, begging for anyone to make it stop. Why did he deserve this? What could any one person possibly do to earn this kind of punishment? Had he died in his sleep? Perhaps he was in some deep circle of Hell that was reserved for the worst kinds of sinners and law-breakers. Without knowing quite what he was doing, Pickles rose to his feet and pressed his hands to the white wall for support, trying in desperation to make sense of it all. All at once the screams stopped; they were replaced by a high-pitched, non-stop scream of agony. Pickles felt tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he reached up and desperately smacked the clock down from where it hung on the wall. Once it hit the floor and shattered, everything was silent.

"Toki, Toki, Toki..." those were the only words that could spill past his quaking lips. He fell to his knees, stared up at the white wall, and clasped his hands together, as if he were worshiping it. The place where he had put his hands was stained by two smeared bloody hand prints. They dripped and ran down the wall, marking it and staining it with their redness. Pickles shut his eyes tightly, and just like that he was awake and panting, staring up into the fabric of an old pillow. He threw it off of him and looked around his room. He was alone, surrounded as always by dozens of empty beer cans and drained bottles of alcohol.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

There came a time when Pickles wanted nothing more than to get out of his room and walk around for a while, but when he opened his bedroom door and walked out, Nathan rushed to meet him. Pickles blinked and stared up at him, a puzzled look on his tired face. "Heya, Nate'n. What's up?"

"You can't, you know, go out of your room." he looked down and spoke as if he was ashamed of his words. When a disbelieving look came across the drummer's face, he added, "I just think it's best for you to take a little break, that's a-"

"A little break? You mean stay in my room, right?" he demanded. "You want me to stay locked up like I'm crazy or—no way, dude! I ain't insane, I just need to walk around!"

"What you need to do," Nathan said, guiding Pickles back in the direction of his room. "is take a few days off, that's it. Listen, Toki's still a little...you should just stay away from him for a while, got it?" Pickles shook his head, tried to push past the singer, but was held back. "Just do what I say; Toki doesn't feel like seeing you right now. Besides, you need a break." Nathan surveyed the drummer from head to foot, saw the tired and pathetic look on his face, and added, "When was the last time you slept?"

"Last night."

"Hmm...well, just stay in your room for a while. Trust me, it's best." and Nathan nudged Pickles back towards the door and then watched as he stormed back into his room. The drummer slammed his door, got himself a half-empty bottle of alcohol, and then threw himself onto his bed. It wasn't the fact that he couldn't even leave his room that really bothered him, it was the fact that Toki wanted nothing to do with him. Of course Pickles understood—the Norwegian had probably always hated him after what he had done to him...

The drummer laid there drinking for the longest while before a knock came at his door. Without any enthusiasm whatsoever, Pickles yelled, "Do whatever you want—come in, I don't give a fuck."

"You sures I can come in?"

Pickles felt his face turning red as he threw the covers off of him, drooped his bottle of booze, and tripped to answer the door. "I'm comin', just hold an! I'm—I gat it!" he took a deep breath before opening the door and letting Toki inside. "Sorry, I was just, y'know, feelin' crappy."

The Norwegian nodded and stood awkwardly in the center of the room. "Sures, I gets it."

"Yeah." and Pickles swallowed, ran a nervous hand thru his dreadlocks, and then closed the door gently. "So...uh...why're you here, anyways? Nathan said 'dat you didn't want to talk to me or even look at me. I don't blame you, though, it's just that-"

"He saids that? Oh." Toki frowned and glanced down at the floor. "That ams not true at all."

"Oh..." a pause then, "...okay, 'den. You wanna sit down somewhere?"

"Ams there a chair?"

"No, but there's the-" _bed. _As more images of Toki's naked body entered his mind, he turned red and went to sit on his bed. The guitarist sat next to him without a word. He looked different today; his hair wasn't draped gracefully over his shoulders like it usually was. It was up in a loose, messy ponytail. So he'd finally learned to put it up himself? That was a miracle.

The guitarist saw Pickles staring at his hair and grinned shyly, "I needs to get it cut. It's gettings to long and it ams annoying me."

"Yeah, sure."

A long, horrible period of awkward silence passed before Toki began speaking again. "You knows what I've been thinking abouts lately?"

"Yeah, and look, I'm just really really s-"

"We should do somethings together."

Pickles shut his mouth and arched a brow. _"What?"_

Toki shrugged and some loose strands fell in his face. The drummer had to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching over and running his hands thru that wonderfully lavish curtain of brown hair. He sat there, his body fully tensed up, feeling his stomach flipping from one side of his body to the other, looking totally embarrassed for seemingly no reason at all. He listened as the guitarist explained to him, "Looks, I guess that you've been kinds of stressed out lately, and sos have I, and I just thinks that maybe we should gos out. The band ams going out tonight to some stupids club to picks up strippers, and I wants you to come with us."

"I cant," he said miserably. "Nathan would never let me outta this room. In fact, you shouldn't even tell him that we talked or that you even saw me. He'll-"

"You wants to know a secret?"

Pickles felt his heart skip a beat as he asked in a near-whisper, "Y-Yeah?"

Toki smiled sweetly and admitted, "I think that Nathan ams full of shit. I mean, it's nots like you dreams that stuff _every _nights, right?"

"I...uh...right..."

"So comes with us! You needs to be with someone, Pickle. Maybe that ams your problem—you ams always up here alones drinking and gettings high. You should hangs out with me more."

"O-Okay." he sputtered. "I will."

"So you're going to comes out with us tonight?"

Pickles hesitated before nodding. "Sure."

Toki laughed in delight and leaned forward to give the drummer a hug. That embrace seemed to last for a lifetime, and Pickles loved every moment that he was able to touch that hard and muscular body. He was even able to secretly run his hands thru the Norwegian's hair. He was so _warm, _probably looked so fucking _good _naked and moaning, begging for him to—he felt himself turning red, so he abruptly pushed Toki away, ended the hug, and looked down at the sheets of his bed.

"Just go, okay dude? I'll be there, but for now just leave me the fuck alone."

"Buts Pickle-"

"Go away." he demanded, still not meeting Toki's gaze. "I'll see you later."

"Whatever. I don't know what ams wrong with you, but it sure is pissing me off."

"Yeah," Pickles said as he watched Toki walk out of the room, "I don't know what's wrang with me neither."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

He couldn't do it, couldn't watch Toki gawk at how many strippers Skwisgaar could make out with at once. Pickles found himself storming out of the stupid club only an hour after they arrived there; he was able to keep his cool as long as his thoughts remained away, but once he was forced to return to the real world that was it. He felt sick, needed to get away, so all at once he pushed his way out of the stifling place and into the nearly empty street. It was sort of perfect, really; the street of the usually busy city was deserted, almost consumed by night except for the streetlights that gave off their warm, safe rays of light. He peered up at the sky, searched for the stars, but could find none. He hated the city. When he was a kid living in Wisconsin, he'd always sworn that he'd grow up, become famous, and live in a fancy penthouse in the city with tons of lovers, but now it was different. Now _everything _was different, more confusing.

Thoughtlessly, he pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. He lit one and placed it between his lips. After a few seconds, he let out a smoky breath, stifled a cough, and went to sit on the hood of the band's car. They had ended up borrowing Ofdensen's fancy sports car tonight, mostly because the night air was too biting and chilly for a ride on the Murdercycle. Pickles smoked a little more, laid back on the hood of the car, and closed his eyes.

"So you don'ts even wants to be in the same room as me now?"

Pickles sighed, put the cigarette between his lips again, and breathed tiredly, "Ain't about you, Toki."

"Then what ams it about?"

A pause then, "Y'know I like you, dude. You know we're friends."

"We ams? Wowee, I didn't knows that."

Pickles felt a stabbing pain race thru him and he sat up, crushed out the cigarette, and narrowed his eyes at the Norwegian. "Of course we are, don't pretend like we ain't."

Toki looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. His hair was down now and blew around his face in the small breeze that cut thru the city. "Fucks you." he said it coldly, his voice and eyes shining with an out-of-place kind of hurt. Pickles slid off of the hood of the car, went up to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Dude, what's wrong? What'd I say? Did I make you mad?"

"N-No, of course you didn't." Toki's voice shook and he looked down, tried to hide the pain that was etched so clearly on his face. What was wrong with him? Why was he choosing now to act like this?

"Look, I...what's this about?"

"Pickle, I gots to tell you something. I-"

"Fuck it, I really like you, kid." Pickles found the confidence to pull Toki close and hug him. "We should start goin' out again."

"We never wents out,Pickle." he responded coldly, pushing the drummer off of him. "You was the only one who _went _anywheres."

"I'm sorry! 'Dat was a mistake, it was-"

"Pickle, I gots another girl."

Pickles felt his heart turn to ice as he asked, "A-A _girl? _Like what, as in a _girlfriend?"_

Toki nodded and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. "Ja, I've been wantings to tell you for a while, but—looks, there she ams." he presented the phone to the drummer. There was a picture of a fair, brown-haired, blue-eyed girl on there, one that looked much like Toki himself only, of course, much more feminine. Her smile was truly gorgeous, perfectly joyful, alluring, and, perhaps above all, intelligent. Pickles swallowed.

"Huh. She's pretty." he was really about to be sick now. All at once he felt his confidence rotting away—along with his heart. Didn't Toki realize what he was doing to him? If he did, did he care?

"She ams in a metal band in Norway, a reallys good one. She sings and plays guitar and...well, she ams just really great."

"H-How long've you two been...y'know..."

Toki turned a little red as he answered, "A few years. I mets her on our last tour in Europe, and we went out and I really liked her, so we've stills kept in touch." he put away his phone and peered over at Pickles. His pale eyes shined dazzlingly in the light of the streetlamps as he said, "I really thinks I love her."

Pickles nodded and laughed bitterly. He went back over to where the car was and leaned heavily against it. "Of course you do."

"Pickle?"

"Yeah?"

"She ams coming to visit in a few days and I was thinking of...I was wonderings if..." _Oh Gad, _Pickles thought in desperation as he watched Toki struggle for words. _Don't say it, please don't...you idiot, don't you see that I love you? Haven't I made it obvious enough?_

In the back of Pickles' mind he wondered what it would look like if Toki proposed to him. He could hear his voice clearly, see the look of pure joy on the Norwegian's face, but knew it was wrong. "What were you wondering?" he asked finally, bracing himself for the agonizing pain that was sure to come.

"I wants to ask her to marry me."

He nodded, wiped at his nose, and sniffled. He had to end up biting his lower lip to keep from sobbing right there, but somehow he managed to ask, "S-So you're gonna do it this time? There's no talkin' you outta it?"

Toki shook his head. "Nos, Pickle."

"Huh." he smiled bitterly down at his sneakers. "Woulda been great if you would've told me this earlier."

"Whats would it have mattered?"

"That way I could've made you see how stupid this a long time ago."

The Norwegian shook his head and went to sit on the car next to the drummer. Just as he sat down, Pickles got up and began pacing around in circles. "You shouldn't marry her," he said. " 'cause she ain't good enough for you, she's-"

"You haven't even _mets _her yet, Pickle!"

"But I know, alright?"

"Hows do you know who ams right for me and who isn't?"

"I just..." he closed his eyes, trying to fight the tears that were blurring his vision, and whispered painfully, "I just do. I know you better'n anyone, Toki! Don't you _see it? _Gad, why can't you just look at me and see it? I can't...I can't _tell _you, you just have to see it, but I can't ever tell you..."

"Tells me what?"

"That I...you..." Pickles shook his head and let out an annoyed sigh. "Gad, I'm so stupid..." he paused, ran an hand distractedly thru his hair, and finally came up with, "I don't think you should marry her just like 'dat, Toki, nat unless you're in love."

"But I _ams _in love with her!"

"_Fuck." _he felt the pain radiate thru his entire body, along with growing feelings of shame and remorse towards himself. How stupid he had been to think that Toki might still have any kind of affection for him. All he could think to say was, "Why are you tellin' me? Why do you think I care so much?" he felt Toki's hand fall on his shoulder; in a moment he was forced to meet the guitarist's bright, joyful gaze. It was like a wonderful torture to behold something so beautiful, but to also have to face the painful reality of this situation.

He had no chance, none at all, he could tell by the way Toki's eyes glowed as he said, "I wants to be with her, Pickle, and I just thoughts that since you ams my best friend you could helps me out with some stuff."

"_Help you out?" _he chuckled remorsefully. "With what?"

"You knows," the Norwegian said, shrugging. "likes buying a ring and stuff; I don't know hows to do it, so I figured that maybe you coulds-"

"Get Skwisgaar t'do it." Pickles interrupted, trying to walk away from him. Toki didn't let him retreat, though; he caught the drummer's arm and held him back.

"Pickle, please. This ams really important to me—she ams the most important thing to me in the worlds, don't you understand that? I needs for everything to be perfect and you know how Skwisgaar ams. He fucks prettys much everything that walks! I don't want him near Dalla!"

Pickles stifled a laugh before repeating, _Dalla? _I'm sorry, your what? What the fuck is a _Dalla?"_

"That ams her name," Toki explained. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Oh my G-"

"Please helps me, Pickle! I really needs you."

The drummer crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at the night sky. The streetlight above him flickered for a moment, and he hated the damn thing for it; it was as if the whole world was laughing at him. Even the lights were winking, saying silently, _There's no way in hell that you'll ever be his Dalla..._the sound of more of Toki's pitiful begging brought him back to reality, and in a moment he was hugging the guitarist and working hard to conceal his anger and envy. Stupid girls. They always ruined things for him.

"I'm happy for you, dude." he said in the Norwegian's ear. "I really am."

"Pickle?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for carings about me so much. I know you haven't mets her yet, but when you will you'll loves her."

Pickles felt his heart freezing over again as he whispered miserably, _"Meet _her?"

Toki nodded and hugged him tighter. "Ja, I wants you to meet her, to see how pretty and smart and funny she ams...I know you'll love her. _I _do...God, she ams really amazing."

"Of course she is." he sighed. "They always are."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

****A/N****

**I know what you're thinking—why did I chose the name 'Dalla'. It sounds like a form of currency, I know, but it just reminded me of a pretty, porcelain doll. Plus, as I've said before, I suck at naming people. I just Googled 'Norwegian baby girl names and meanings' as I have so many times before, and that's what I came up with. **

_**Dalla—In norse the meaning is: Luminosity, brilliance [light]**_

**So I guess it seemed perfect. Thanks for the recent reviews; I really appreciate them. For those of you who haven't reviewed, you should even if all you have to say is how bad my writing is or how much it sucks. ^_^ Anyways, thanks. Hope you're liking the story so far.**

**Peace & Love**


	4. Perfection As Planned

_Thank you God  
__we don't know your motives.  
__You made us totally blind  
__take our hope  
__forced us into your giant trap  
__to bury us alive.  
__I'm alive but I'm dying  
__at the same time._

_I hope you still have a good time.  
__~~Abused, by Jim Morrison_

_**CHAPTER 4: PERFECTION AS PLANNED**_

"Remember, this has to be perfect."

"I know."

"We can'ts mess up, not even a littles."

"Dude, I gat it. It's gonna be-"

"What if she don't likes the ring? What if-"

"Hey," Pickles said, guiding Toki in the direction of a jewelry store. "you wanna know somethin'?"

The Norwegian turned to him, his pale eyes wide with nervousness and confusion. "Sures, what ams it?"

"You're really startin' to piss me aff." and he held the door open, let Toki walk in, and then followed him. Together the two had managed to take a small vacation away from the Mordhaus; they were staying in a five-star hotel in the heart of the city, quite similar to the one they'd occupied back in Mexico. Now as they walked thru the jewelry store and gawked at the wonderful pieces of silver and gold, Toki began to feel overwhelmed—he tried to leave. Pickles caught him and pulled him back, knowing just how important this was to the guitarist. "Sorry, dude," he said, guiding Toki over in the direction of the rings. "but I can't let you leave."

"Why nots? Oh Gods, this ams too stressful! Is getting married usually this scary?"

"Wouldn't know," the drummer commented, picking up a traditional gold band. "never been close to the whole, y'know, 'I do' thing before." he frowned in thought and added, "This is probably the closest I ever been to any kinda marriage, actually..."

Toki took the ring from him and put it aside gently. "She wouldn't want somethings like that."

"Then what does she like?"

"Somethings like-" he picked up a deep ebony band, slipped it around his own finger, and smiled sweetly down at it. There were fine, silver roses on it, and under the strong fluorescent light of the store they seemed to glow. Without another moment of hesitation, Toki presented the ring to Pickles and asked, "Wills you-"

"Forget it dude; I know you're scared, but I ain't gonna marry you." he said, smiling wistfully down at the other rings.

Toki laughed and nudged him slightly with his elbow. "Pickle, you ams funny. I'm glad you cames with me."

"I had to," he said, trying to sound halfway as innocent and sweet as the Norwegian himself. " 'cause you're my dude, right?"

"Rights." he said, grinning broadly.

"Good, now go pay for 'dat ring."

Toki glanced down at the ring before saying, "Lets me see your finger for a seconds."

"Why?" Pickles' face turned red.

"Just dos it, please." the drummer let Toki take his hand and slip the band on. He studied the way it fit for a moment then nodded. "Her fingers ams probably abouts the same size as yours."

"_Mine?" _Pickles peered at his hands and frowned. "You mean 'dat I gat _girl _hands?"

The Norwegian just giggled and gave him a quick hug. "You ams the best, Pickle!" and he hurried to the counter to purchase the ring.

Pickles watched him go, a sad look reflecting in his green eyes as he mumbled, "Yeah, sure I am."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

It was unclear how, but soon the purchase of the ring lead them around town to about a dozen other shops; Toki began shopping for everything from new shoes to a new shirt. He explained his reason for this shyly. "I wants to, you know, looks halfway goods for her."

Pickles just rolled his eyes and responded with, "Dude, you _always _look good, so let's just go." but that hadn't been enough. Soon he was facing the wall of a dressing room as Toki changed into a new pair of jeans behind him. "Can I turn around now?"

"Nos, no! Not yet, just holds on..."

"Why can't I just wait ous-"

"Okay, you can looks."

The drummer turned and crossed his arms over his chest, a look of supreme annoyance on his face. This expression quickly melted away when he saw Toki standing before him without a shirt, wearing noting but a pair of skinny jeans. He swallowed, tried not to seem to embarrassed as he said, "Look, dude, can't you buy your own pair of fuckin' pants? Why do I gatta tell you if they look good or nat?"

"They looks bad?" Toki frowned and looked down at them, ran a hand across the hard muscles of his abs. "They don't makes me look fat, do they?"

"Dude," he sighed sadly; why couldn't he have just one night alone with that body, to explore it and feel its warmth? "I'm pretty sure 'dat _nothin' _could make you look bad. Let's just go."

"Buts look! They ams on sale!"

"Who cares? We're fuckin' billionaires, dude! I hate shopping, so let's _please _leave." Toki looked rather moody as he slipped out of the pants. Before Pickles could look away, he was watching as the guitarist stripped down to his boxers. "What're you..."

"Do you thinks I'm good enough?"

He couldn't help but blush and ask cluelessly, "Good enough for what?"

"Her. I means, she ams pretty and smart and I'ms...well, I'm nots so smart or good-looking, I guess."

"Toki?"

"Hmm?" The Norwegian looked over to him as he pulled on his old jeans and zipped them up.

"Shut the fuck up, 'cause you know you're good enough—_better _than good enough—for that girl."

"But what ifs-"

"No." he said firmly, shaking his head. "Just be quiet, because you're just sayin' bullshit. C'mon and get dressed so we can go back to the hotel."

"Okays." he smiled meekly, put on his shirt, and followed Pickles out of the store. As they walked, Toki slipped his hand into the drummer's and said sweetly, "Thanks, Pickle. You ams reallys great."

"Yeah," he muttered. "the greatest."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

That night as Pickles laid down on his side of the bed and turned on the T.V., Toki began rambling about all of the reasons that Dalla was too good for him. "She ams so funny."

"You're funny, too."

"And she ams pretty. The first time I saw her, I-"

"You're pr—hey, why don't you just shut up an' go to bed?" he inquired, stretching and yawning. "You're gonna need to be really awake for tomorrow." a feeling of incredible dread had been building up inside of him over the past few hours. He knew that by this time tomorrow, Toki and Dalla would be officially engaged to be married, and where did that leave him? Would he be stuck holding back his feelings for the rest of his life? No, he decided, he'd never let that happen—he couldn't _live _if he let that happen. Hell, he'd refuse to live if he didn't even have enough guts to tell Toki the truth. Without thinking, he fixed his eyes on the Norwegian, watched as the kid slipped out of his shirt and crawled underneath the covers of the hotel bed. Toki shifted to face him.

"Pickle?"

"Huh?"

"I...I'ms so scared...what if she says no?"

"She won't." he said, struggling to hold back his feelings of sorrow and anger. Toki was going to be with someone else that he _loved. Love. _God, that was what got him. Toki was really in love with that girl, that stupid little...why did girls always have to ruin everything? "She'll say yes and you two will have a big fancy wedding and...and..." his voice failed him and he was left to just lay there feeling utterly miserable.

"Pickle?"

"What?"

"Do you think she'll likes the ring?"

He nodded. "Yeah dude, she'll love it."

There was a long moment of silence in which the only sounds that could be heard came from the blaring T.V., but eventually another question was asked. "Pickle, how comes we never talks abouts it?"

"About what?" he asked obliviously.

"Abouts...well...don't you remembers?"

"Remember what?"

"The last times we were alone togethers?"

The drummer's face turned scarlet. He turned to face Toki and answered quietly, "Course I do, I'd never let myself forget 'dat, nat ever."

"Well why don't we talks abouts it if you thinks abouts it so mu-"

" 'Cause talkin' about it hurts too much." Pickles said in a whisper. "And I'm sorry about what I did to you...how I left you..."

Toki's eyes filled with tears at the memory. "You...I wokes up, thought you'd be there, 'cause you said you loved me, but..." he sniffled. "...you were gones. You're _always _gones."

"I _had _t'go, Toki. Don't you get it? That was my chance, dude, my chance to make it big, y'know?" Pickles rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, a guilty look on his face. "I wanted to be famous and rich, be surrounded by fans and...but you, you were somethin' so much better'n all 'dat," in this brief moment he seemed to be pouring out all of his thoughts, feeding Toki his heart. Pickles only hoped that this wasn't a mistake. "You were the best thing that I ever had, the best sex I'd ever had. You were _mine."_

"And nows I'm not, and that's why." the guitarist said, pulling the sheets of the bed up to his chin. "And I hope you feels bad about it, because I wanted to be with you but you never woulds takes me again. You were such a fuckings bitch to leaves me like that, you knows."

"I know, but-" he didn't know quite what he was doing, but in a moment he was on top of Toki, staring down into those pure blue eyes that he loved so much. "-if you gave me one more chance, I could show you just how much I changed."

"Pickle, I...I can'ts...I don't loves you like that anymore." he said this, but didn't reject the kiss that the drummer planted on his forehead a moment later, nor did he try to end the kiss that came next. It was hot, delicious, tasted exactly like that night long ago. Pickles had to stop himself from taking things _too far _as Toki accepted the kiss willingly, let himself be eased into it. The guitarist pressed his own quickly growing erection to Pickles' and moaned. In an instant the drummer's hands were gliding over the naked flesh of the Norwegian, tracing that slender body and the throbbing head of the other man's cock...

"Pickle? Pickle, wakes up, you ams making weird sounds...Pickle?" The drummer let out a tired groan and opened his eyes. Toki was sitting up in the bed next to him, his hair wiled and messy, clutching his beloved deddy bear to his chest. "Ams yous alright? Were you having a dream?"

"I...I was asleep?" when the guitarist nodded, Pickles let out a pitiful, _"Fuck!" _He wanted it to be real, to have Toki like that again. He could almost taste what it would be like to kiss the guitarist...

"You were havings a dream?"

The drummer nodded miserably. "Yeah, I guess I was."

"Was its a bad one?"

"Bad?" he chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, it was good—amazing."

"Who was its about?"

The drummer arched a pierced brow and asked Toki, "How d'you know that it was about anyone?"

"You were moanings real loud and panting..." the Norwegian's face turned red as he nudged the drummer playfully and whispered, "Ams it a _sex _dream?" when the other man just looked away and turned red, the guitarist laughed; he began playfully punching Pickles, chanting, "Pickle hads a sex dream, Pickle hads a-"

"Wasn't no sex dream!"

This only made him laugh harder and mock, " _'Oh Gods, ja, that feels SO goods...fuck yeah...' _you sounded likes you was abouts to-"

"Fuck aff!" Pickles snapped, hugging a pillow to his chest. He himself was surprised that he hadn't had one of his usual bad dreams, but he had to admit that this was a welcomed change. Still, he wished more than anything in the world that Toki hadn't heard him. He prayed that he hadn't mentioned the guitarist's name aloud. If he had, then that would be very, very disastrous...

"Sorrys." Toki said, immediately losing his air of humor. He laid back down in the bed, switched off the lamp, and stared blankly at the wall.

Pickles sighed. His hand was shaking and his heart pounding in his ears as he said comfortingly, "Sorry, dude. I didn't mean-" he was cut off as the sound from before—that horrible, agonizing screaming from his dreams—came back to him. He covered his ears with his hands, let his eyes water. "What the fuck is _that?" _A look of concern came across Toki's face as he stared at the drummer.

"What ams what?"

"Dude, don't you hear it? Gad, it's horrible..." he had to stifle a sob as the noise was magnified; he was yelling, nearly weeping. It hurt his ears so badly, made each and every joint in his quaking frame become inflamed with pain. He let out a sudden cry and hugged himself, tried to forget about the noise, but couldn't. Then the smell of gasoline and fire came, accompanied by more screaming. He barley heard Toki's desperate cries of, "Pickle? Pickle, what ams wrong? Are you havings a bad dream again?"

"No, I'm awake!" he sobbed, pressing his trembling hands to his forehead. "I'm awake, I'm awake...make it stop, please just stop..._stop!"_

He felt Toki's warm hand come in contact with the skin of his bare shoulder. "It ams okay, Pickle, really. You're fines, just stops this...you're safe, I swears."

"It ain't about _me, _it's about—" he found the strength to look over, meet the Norwegian's gaze—maybe those pale, wondrous eyes could pull him back to reality, make the pain go away. It didn't. What he saw was enough to make the burning, sick taste of vomit rise into his throat; Toki wasn't alive, he was dead, staring at Pickles with eyes glazed over and lifeless, empty. The drummer just sat there, listened to the guitarist's fading, distant voice.

"Pickle, are you okay? Why ams you staring at me like that?"

Didn't he see it? Didn't _anyone _see it? No, clearly they didn't. Obviously he was suffering alone, and the more he acted like this, the more insane Toki must think he was..._I've gatta make him think I'm okay, I've gatta—_just as he thought this, the morbid, dead vision of Toki began to bleed. It bled from the nose first, then from the mouth, and then tears of blood began leaking from those lightless eyes. All at once he was nothing but a useless corpse laying in Pickles' arms limply. The drummer was mortified as he held Toki's dead and cold body. What was happening to him?

"Pickle, ams you okay?"

He shook himself, blinked, and just like that the noise stopped and the corpse faded—he was back in the real world now. "I...uh...Toki, was I just asleep?"

The Norwegian shook his head. "Nos, you were wide awake...ams the noise gone yet?"

"Noise? I—yeah, it is." Pickles' ears still vibrated with pain, as did the rest of his body, and looking at Toki there, seeing his eyes so full of a new found life, was enough to make him break down and finally begin to sob. He fell into the Norwegian's arms and cried, didn't have the strength to move. He was still in an incredible amount of pain. "G-Gad, what's happening? I don't know anything anymore...didn't you see it? Please don't tell me that I'm the only one that saw it..."

"Ja, Pickle," Toki said kindly, smiling down at the drummer. "I saws it."

Pickles could tell by his tone that the guitarist actually had no clue about what he was speaking of, but it didn't matter. It made him feel better all the same, so he closed his eyes and rested in Toki's arms until sleep took him again. Once more he was thrust into that impossibly horrible world of his dreams, where the smells of burning flesh and gasoline filled his nostrils—there was something more now, though, something that hadn't been there before. This time when Pickles fell asleep, there was a vision of a long, winding road that lead off into nowhere. He didn't know what it meant—he'd never seen that particular road before in his life—but he knew that somehow it must have been important. He knew that it was something bigger than himself, bigger even than Toki, because laying on that road in a pile of shining, shattered glass was a clock with a plain face, one that was melting into the asphalt. The hands on it were crooked and broken.

The clock wasn't ticking.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

They both sat in a restaurant, waiting for the girl to come. _The girl. _Pickles had to work hard to keep his composure as he listened to Toki talk about her. Didn't the Norwegian even care remotely for him? Couldn't he tell just how exhausted and fearful the drummer was? He'd been having horrible hallucinations all morning, all having to do with death. The worst one had been when he and Toki had entered the restaurant and been seated by a waitress. As she told them her name, the sound returned, harsher and more piercing than ever. Rather than freaking out about it or showing his weakness, Pickles had remained silent, watched as Toki casually picked at his nails. So he really was insane, was he? He was hearing things that nobody else did, seeing gruesome scenes that nobody could imagine...

"Pickle, ams you alright?"

"Huh?" he looked up at Toki, gave him a supportive little smile, and nodded. "Yeah, just a little tired s'all."

"I can't wait for yous to meets her—ams you goings to stay and see me propose to h-"

"Yeah, sure thing, dude."

Toki grinned proudly and took a sip of his drink—diet coke. He always ordered a damn diet coke. Pickles smirked and thought, _I bet Dalla don't know his favorite drink...I always order for him, and I always get what he likes. I bet she can't do 'dat..._ "You ams thinking about something, I cans tell." the Norwegian said happily as he picked a cube of ice out of his cup and popped it in his mouth. The guitarist didn't have the best table manners, but he did look adorable crunching joyously on that ice.

"I'm always thinkin' of something."

"What ams you thinking of now?"

"How happy you're gonna be..." he said, biting his lower lip until his eyes watered. "...y'know, when she says yes."

"You really thinks so?"

"Course I do." he sighed and flicked his straw around in his cup of Pepsi. "Real fuckin' happy."

"Thanks. I—there she ams!" he began jumping up and down as a young, long-legged, perfectly slender and beautiful girl entered the restaurant. Toki got out of his seat, ran over to her, and greeted her with an overly enthusiastic, _"Min jente, jeg savnet deg så mye! Jeg elsker deg!"_

Of course her smile was even more dazzling than it had been in the picture that Pickles had seen; she gave Toki a loving little smile and said back, _"Min Toki, jeg savnet deg også, elskling!" _and Toki gave her a brief, sweet kiss on the lips and then one on the cheek, like he couldn't get enough of her, and Dalla giggled shyly. She walked with him back over to the table. He pulled the chair out for her and let her sit down before giving her a small kiss on the top of her pretty brown head.

"_Jeg elsker deg." _he repeated, taking his own seat. Dalla couldn't stop smiling as she let Toki take her hand and hold it.

"Pickle, this ams my girl." he said timidly, blushing.

"Yeah, she's..." he sighed, felt himself begin to tremble at having to watch this. It was like torture. "Y-yeah, she's better'n you said."

"I knows." he leaned a little on her slender shoulder and kissed her cheek again. "I'm glads you came."

Dalla just smiled down at him, her face a radiant, beautiful image of womanly perfection. "I had to see you, darling. I missed you so much; the band's been going good, but it's not the same when you're not there. In the name of Odin, they're so bad when it comes to playing the guitar. I was thinking of replacing our lead."

"They don't seems so bad." Toki commented.

"Compared to you..."

Pickles rolled his eyes and gulped down a large mouthful of Pepsi as he listened to them talk. "I'ms not that great." Toki said, smiling broadly. "Nots compared to Skwisgaar."

Dalla frowned at this. "That Swede that you love so much? Darling, you're far better than him."

Toki's eyes lit up, making him appear to be utterly pitiful in the presence of such a compliment. "Reallys? I-"

"So why am I here again?" the drummer asked from the other side of the table. "To listen to you two talk?"

"Oh nos! Dalla, this ams Pickle. He ams my best friend."

Pickles took the girl's delicate, dainty hand, shook it, and gave her a quick, almost resentful, "Yeah, how're you doin', sweetie?" he didn't know why, but he always ended up calling Toki's girlfriends stupid stuff like honey or sweetie or, in the case of Camille, hot stuff. It was partly due to sarcasm, but mostly just out of habit. Whenever he was with any girl he gave them a little name. His last girl friend had been something particularly sweet and sappy...thinking about it made him turn red and drink down more coke. "Well, 'dis has been really great, but-" he said, watching Toki kiss Dalla's hand. His face blazed red with envy and rage as he said snappishly, "-but I've gat other stuff t'do. Toki, I hope you have a real good time. I hope you _both _have a good time. G'night." he got up and went out in the lobby; Toki followed, an angry look on his face.

He caught up with the drummer and hissed, "What ams your problem? She just cames here all the way from Norway to meets you and all you can do is-"

"Toki, don't act stupid. She didn't come to meet me, she came to see _you, _'cause you two are _in love, _remember?" he scoffed. "What a load of bullshit...love...that ain't love."

"I can'ts believe you're doing this rights now!" Toki cried angrily.

"Doin' what, telling you the thruth? Toki, she's a total idiot! Fuck her, just come back to the band with me and we can—"

"What the hell ams wrong with you? Why can't you just lets me be happy?"

"You_ are_ happy," he explained. "with me."

The Norwegian wiped tears of rage and humiliation from his eyes before saying, "Nos, Pickle, I don't think I ams anymore; you're nots a good friend, really...I shouldn't have..."

"What? Invited me?"

Toki gave him an apologetic look and said, "Looks, just gos if you wants to make a big deal abouts it, okay? Dalla ams perfect—she's the most beautiful, special person in the worlds to me, and I'd give anythings for her. I-"

"Shut up already!" Pickles yelled. This was agony, pure and utter agony.

"That's it—leave if you wants, I'm not going to keep wasting my times with you." and Toki turned, dug the ring box out of his pocket, and walked back into the restaurant. Pickles went to pull him back, but something made him stop in his tracks; he couldn't. He truly couldn't keep Toki from happiness, even if it meant that he would die inside, that his heart would be ripped out. All the drummer could do was watch from the lobby as Toki went over, helped Dalla out of her seat, and got down on one knee.

He was far away—what seemed like miles—but still Pickles could hear the words echoing clearly throughout the restaurant. "Dalla, I thinks you should marry me now."

It came out sounding like the stupidest, most absurdly childlike request in the world, but it made the girl melt nonetheless. In an instant she had the ring on her finger and was jumping in Toki's arms, sobbing, "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Toki was crying too, letting tears leak from his pale eyes. In a moment the whole restaurant was applauding them, everyone except Pickles. The drummer felt himself grow numb as he heard the guitarist say to Dalla, "We ams going to be happy, right? Haves lots of kids and starts a family? Can we moves back to Norway together and just be alones, away from everything else?"

Just like that, Pickles found himself again. He turned and hurried out of the restaurant, down the street, and back to the hotel.


	5. The Clock Stops

_There was some time, when I had money  
__and often I run out of it.  
__But suddenly everything has changed  
__from the time I'm yours._

_I'm your food, I'm your drink today  
__but one day I will be used up.  
__Then I will die no doubt._

_~~Always Different, by Jim Morrison_

_**CHAPTER 5: THE CLOCK STOPS**_

Pickles stormed out of the restaurant and didn't look back once. He was pissed, he was depressed, and he was happy all at the same time, because despite everything else he was still slightly excited for the Norwegian. Toki had found himself a girl to love, that was great; he was finally happy, and wasn't that all that was important? He still hated everything, though—himself, Toki for being so God damn blind, everyone who had applauded at the restaurant, and Dalla most of all for taking what should have been his. _His, Toki was HIS! _No matter what, the guitarist would always be his to care for, to love, to talk to, and to screw around with...

"Pickle, stops! Where ams you going?"

"Back to the hotel." he answered, not even bothering to peer over his shoulder. Toki hurried to catch up with him, and once he had he took Pickles' arm and tried to pull him back.

"Stops! Where ams yous-"

"No, fuck 'dat! I need to talk to someone! I need-"

"Me, Pickle, talks to me! Comes on, you can talks to me." Toki's eyes were overflowing with tears as he said, "I'm your best friends, right?"

"Listen, I just can't deal with you or your bullshit right now, alright?" Pickles was shaking from head to toe, trying to forget the fact that Toki truly wasn't his, that the guitarist would never be his. Suddenly an idea came into his mind. It hit him like a burst of lightning, and all at once part of his pain was washed away as he said aloud, "Tony! I gatta go see Tony, his place ain't far..."

"Pickle, you can'ts go see him!" Toki gasped, pulling on the drummer's arm with more force. He was nearly sobbing now, desperately pleading with him. "You can'ts, you can'ts, you-"

"Toki, listen to me," Pickles said calmly. "That fuckin' girl that you're giving your everything to—your heart, your _life—_she isn't good enough for you."

"Whys not?"

He let out a cry of frustration, pushed the Norwegian away from him, and then said angrily, "So what, you don't want me to go see Tony, but you can fuck with Dalla whenever you want? How is 'dat fair? How is it fair that she don't know anything about you or what you're like; think about it! Who the fuck's gonna fix you soup when you have the flu? Who the hell's gonna drag himself out of his bed every night for a month straight to read you a story at one in the morning because you're scared of the monsters under your bed?"

"Pickle, I-"

He was nearly crying now as he spilled out all of his bitter emotions. "Who the fuck is gonna get down on his hands and knees and _look _under your damn bed for the monsters? Who's gonna play I Spy with you when you're bored on the tour bus, or go with you to the fuckin' carnival and keep the clowns away from you, 'cause you're fuckin' terrified of them...who's gonna...gonna..." his voice trailed off as a dozen memories of the times that he had chased away the guitarist's monsters and fought off all of those clowns flashed before his eyes.

"Pickle, what ams you trying to say?" Toki's pale eyes shined brightly under the light of the full moon above. The drummer shook his head, clearly unable to believe that the Norwegian still wasn't able to see how much he cared for him.

"You still don't get it yet? Man, that's it, I'm done. You wanna be with her? Fine. Go. Go and run and kiss and fuck your girl, 'cause I'm done." Pickles knew he had to walk away, run back to Tony like he'd done so long ago, but he also wanted to make Toki experience even a quarter of the pain and anguish he was feeling, so he added coldly, "I'm gonna go see Tony, gonna go fuck with him. Hope you and Dalla are real happy together; you won't be seein' me again tonight." he turned and said with an odd sort unchecked of fondness in his voice, "G'bye, Toki. I lo...l...g'bye."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

The worst, most shady part of town was where Tony now lived after his musical career had gone down the drain. He'd never really recovered from the breakup of _Snakes 'N Barrels, _but somehow he had managed to get himself a girl and pay a cheap monthly rent on a shabby, broken-down apartment. Pickles went up to it, but before he could even reach the door, there came call from behind him. "Hey, Red, what're you doing here in this shithole?"

The drummer turned and was surprised to see Tony making his way over to him, his pale hands clutching a beer can. "Same thing that you're doin'," he answered cunningly. "lookin' to get screwed with a little."

Tony grinned, pulled Pickles into a brotherly embrace, and asked, "You're really horny, man?"

"Sure, horny and fucked up."

"Really?" he arched a brow and ended the hug, offered the drummer a sip of his beer. "What's got you so fucked up? You look like shit."

"Thanks," Pickles said, taking a large gulp of the beer. "real nice of you to notice. And yeah, I'm fucked up, alright, but you don't wanna hear about it."

"Maybe I do."

"Trust me, you don't"

Tony chuckled and threw the now empty can of beer onto the gravel and stepped on it with his boot. He was skinnier than he'd been the last time Pickles had seen him; he wore his old outfit from _Snakes 'N Barrels, _and the unbuttoned black vest that he had pulled on was open, clearly exposing his amazingly flat stomach. Tony saw him staring at this and grinned. "Lost some weight, got back into doin' drugs and all that crap. What about you?"

"I'm skinny." he said, trying to suck in the slight beer gut that he'd acquired after so many years of drinking non-stop. Tony laughed at this and reached a warm hand up Pickles' shirt. "Missed you, man, I really have. What made you come down to my part of town after avoiding me for so long?"

"You're washed up, Tony," he responded with a labored sigh. "We both are, but I think 'dat maybe it's time that we, y'know, _reconnect."_

The other man smiled knowingly and pulled the drummer aside, into the dark, unlit parking lot. "Where do you wanna do this reconnecting?"

"Don't matter, as long as it gets done." Pickles whispered, his voice hoarse with lust. He let himself be guided in the direction of an old, black car. Tony pulled some keys out of his pocket, unlocked it, then motioned for the drummer to get inside.

"Ladies first."

"Shut up, you idiot." he mumbled, climbing into the car. Tony followed, closed and locked the door, then pressed his body to Pickles'; he closed his eyes and wallowed in every memory they'd created together.

Suddenly Tony began was laughing softly. "Remember that time I went and pulled you out of that guy's room—the one who worked at the guitar shop?" he asked. " 'I just wanted to buy you a new bass,' you said. God, you were stupid to fuck that guy just for a bass." he grinned maliciously and took Pickles' shirt in his hands. "Take it off for me."

The drummer complied, though he'd long since fallen out of this routine of rough, quick sex. Well, at least it would be _something, _and that's all that mattered, he decided, stripping just as Tony requested. The other man took off his own clothes then presented his cock to Pickles, made him take it in his hands. "You remember what I like?"

"Don't be stupid." he murmured, taking Tony's cock and running his hands up and down its length. After a quick moment or two of this he pressed his lips to it, kissed it, tasted it, and finally slipped it into his mouth. Tony let out a deep moan and took the drummer's erection in his hands, began rubbing it and roughly stroking the head. Pickles smiled, ran his tongue over the other man's length, and held back laughter as he looked up and watched Tony writhe in pleasure.

"S'good?" he asked, grinning.

"_Fuck yes."_

"S'long as you're happy..." Pickles said this just as Tony tensed up and let out another curse. They were both so deeply in lust with each other that they didn't even hear the car door unlatch as Tony accidentally hit the button on his keys; they just kept on fucking with one another until finally the drummer was pinned down to the leather seat of the car.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Tony said, struggling to contain his mounting desire. "real hard just like before, and you're gonna like it..."

Suddenly the drummer remembered what it had been like to fuck with Tony when he had been drunk. It had been painful, hadn't it? Hadn't he even cried a few times, begged the other man to stop or at least go slower and be a little gentler? There had been hair pulling, agony, and a searing, tearing pain inside of him...suddenly Pickles was regretting his decision, but before he could really have a chance to protest, the door flew open and he fell out the backseat of the car half naked into the freezing parking lot. He stared up into the shocked, mortified face of Toki. He opened his mouth to explain, but before he could Tony had pulled his pants up and stepped out of the car.

"Hey, what the—who's that kid?" He glared down at the drummer, watched as Pickles hurried to put his dick back in his pants and hide his erection. "Is it _him? _You dumped _Snakes 'N Barrels _so you could be with _him? _That fucking _kid?"_

"You knew he was in _Dethklok!"_

"But it never actually clicked until now! You-" he pointed to Toki and spat, "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

"Hey, Tony, why don't you ju-"

"You shut up, Red!"

"Don't call me 'dat, you dildo!" he howled. "You couldn't call me that back then and you sure as fuck can't call me it now!"

"You are the biggest fucking idiot I've ever!" Tony swore. "Every time you're with me you start trouble." he sneered down a the drummer, who was now blushing deeply. "God, no wonder why I'm not a fag like you no mo-"

"Shuts up!" Toki snapped, helping Pickles to his feet. "What dids Pickle ever do to you that was sos bad? The only thing I've ever see him do ams care abouts you lots more than he cares about anyones else." he cast the drummer an injured look and continued with, "He loves you."

"No," Pickles said, pushing Toki away from Tony—this was his fight, not the Norwegian's. It was his to settle. "I don't, I just...I was horny, so-"

"So what? You decided to come back here and start trouble again, you fucking stupid little prick?" Tony howled, his hands balling into fists. Before Pickles could retaliate, Tony had punched him in the stomach hard, making him let out a grunt of pain and fall to his knees. "You don't-" he hit the drummer again and again, "-just pull me in a car-" another hit in the mouth, "-and expect me to fuck you-" two more in the back, "-then leave me like _I'm _the bitch!"

Tony prepared to punch the dazed and bleeding Pickles again, but Toki fell to his knees and wrapped his arms protectively around the drummer, acted as a shield between him and the other man. He took the next few blows until Pickles managed to get to his feet. "Dude, just quit it, alright? You're bein' an-" Tony punched him in his mouth, let out a yell of rage.

"Fuck you! You think you can just fuck with me and leave me for _him _twice?"

"I aint..." he was panting, struggling for breath. "...leavin' you, I just-" suddenly he was swaying, struggling stand up straight as blood leaked from his nose and between his lips. "-you're too fuckin' hard an me, dude. I can't take it no more!"

"Then why'd you come back?"

" 'Cause I needed to get fucked!"

Tony punched him again, and Toki let out a yell as he watched Pickles fall limply onto the ground. He hurt so badly, was sticky with blood as the Norwegian went over and tried to help him. He patted the drummer's cut cheek, tried to make him regain his senses. "Pickle, ams you okay? Gods, I'm sorry, I just wanted to makes sure that he wasn't hurtings you. I didn't mean for-"

"T-Toki," he sputtered, wiping blood from his mouth. "y'gatta leave. I'm handlin' it, okay?" Pickles' voice was soft and kind as he rose to his feet and pushed the guitarist behind him. He went up to Tony and said warningly, "Dude, just end it. I'm sorry I ever came. You're right, I should've never-"

"_You're _sorry?" Tony asked him, wiping his bloody knuckles off on his jeans. _"You're _sorry that you ended my career? Fuck that, I'll kill you. I'll kill you..." he went up, punched Pickles two more times, had him cursing in pain and retching. "Say it again!" he challenged. "Say you're sorry one more fucking time! I _dare _you!"

"I..."

Toki walked up and wrapped his hands around Tony's throat. After a second of being strangled, the man lowered his fists and tears began leaking from the corners of his eyes as he wheezed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! I-"

"You wants to hurt Pickle? Fines, I'll _kill _you..."

"T-Toki, don't," the drummer said, trying to rise up from off the hard pavement. His blood had stained small parts the parking lot red. It ran down the white concrete and stained it. The Norwegian paid no heed to his pleads or the blood, but instead released Tony with the warning of, "If I ever sees you near him again..."

"I'm sorry, I took it too far, but...God, I just got carried away. Pickles, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean-"

"Fucks off."

"But I-"

"_Fucks off." _it was final, not a request. Tony took his leave and quickly hurried up to his apartment as Toki went over and walked past a crumpled and bleeding drummer. Pickles tried to get up by himself, but found that he was just too weak. Instead he laid there, his blood soaking the pavement. The Norwegian stopped and turned to face him, a mixed look of sympathy and resentment on his fair face. "You...he hurts you?"

"N-No," Pickles answered, trying to sit up and pull himself together. In an instant Toki was walking back over towards him, his hands deep in his pockets.

"I coulds helps you up, but I won't."

"I know."

" 'Cause you know what you dids was wrong."

"What did I do, exactly?" the drummer inquired, wiping some blood from his face. "I fought for you. I-"

"You foughts for yourself, and only because you were too horny to keeps yourself under controls." Toki interrupted snappishly. "This ams all your fault—I should be with Dalla nows."

"Then why're you here?" he asked, trying to rise to his feet. Every movement he made brought him nothing but agonizing pain, but still he was able to get up and lean against a car. "Go back to your girl, leave me here alone. I don't want you to see me like 'dis anyway."

"I...I hates you, Pickle, I reallys do."

The drummer met Toki's cold gaze, saw that what he was saying was the whole truth, nothing held back, nothing stifled. He nodded as if he understood, though inside his heart was screaming for him to show Toki just how much he cared for him. Instead of doing this, Pickles just sniffled, spat out a mouthful of blood, and then coughed a little. "S'fine, dude. I don't...I care for you anyways."

"You don'ts care?"

_No, I _do, _that's the problem! _"N-No," Pickles answered, staring down at his sneakers. "I don't."

"Fines, I guess. This ams it, huh?"

"Yeah, I-"

"Pickle, what did I evers do to make you hate me so much?" Toki asked, his voice suddenly breaking and full of sorrow. He took the drummer's hand and whispered, tears leaking from his pale eyes, "Ams this abouts that night we hads together, a long, long times ago? Do you feel bads for how much you hurts me?"

"Yeah, I do."

"It ams fine, just forgets abouts it! You were drunks and-"

Pickles shook his head in confusion. "No I wasn't, dude. I was sober, don't you remember?"

Toki frowned and let go of the drummer's hand. "Nos, you were drunk that night you founds me again in L.A." he paused, gave him a moment to think about it, and finally said, "Don'ts you remember what you did to me right before we wents off together and joined _Dethklok? _You fucked me, Pickle."

"I...no." he shook his head once more, ran a hand nervously thru his hair. "I only fucked you once, and I remember that. Trust me, if we made love again, I would remem-"

"Nos, we did dos it _twice!"_ now he was sobbing. "Don't you even remembers?"

And just like that, the guitarist was walking away from him, weeping and cursing to himself. Pickles stood there against the car, feeling a little more blood trickling down his cheek. He waited for Toki to come back to him, but he never did. Once again, like so many times before, the drummer was alone.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

Coming back to L.A. Wasn't at all what he'd expected it to be. It was different, but then again, so was he. _Snakes 'N Barrels _had broken up a few weeks ago and Pickles had broken things off with Tony long before that. Now he just stood outside of some dingy motel carrying a few bags and his guitar case, a dismal look on his face. Above him neon buildings glowed, almost hiding the quickly rolling gray clouds of rain that were passing by. Without much thought, the redhead made his way into the building. He got himself a room, a key, then went and opened himself up a bottle of vodka that he'd managed to save from the days when his band had been touring.

The room was bland, nothing but bleak wallpaper and carpet, but Pickles didn't care much. He just drank straight out of the bottle, threw his stuff down, and collapsed onto the bed. Minutes passed by—perhaps hours—and still Pickles laid there staring blankly up at the ceiling until finally he decided that he may as well do something productive with his time. Carefully he dug his Goldtop out from under his piles of bags, and began to strum it has hard and as loudly as he could, a thousand thoughts beginning to go thru his brain. For the first time in a long while he was alone and without much money. What would he do? How would he manage to get along without anyone or anything? He'd probably die alone in this exact motel room, still sipping on this same bottle of vodka...

There came a knock at his door. Pickles began strumming on his guitar louder, tried to drown out that insistent knocking, but a familiar voice came to him. "Excuse mes, but can you please keeps that stupid noise downs? I'm tryings to sleep, dildo!"

"Toki?" in an instant he had thrown down his guitar and was fumbling to open the door. Once it was open he stood panting, a stupid grin on his face. "Heya, Toki. I...uh..." suddenly he felt awkward staring at the Norwegian like that. Hadn't Toki once been the object of his desires, a fantasy come to life? "I missed you, dude."

The Norwegian seemed to be at a loss for words as he took a step away from Pickles. "I...yous ams back in town? Since when?"

"T'day, dude! I just gat back from tour! We're-"

"Oh, I gets it." he looked down. "So you and the rest of the bands am probably s in there, huh?"

"No, we broke up."

Toki arched a brow. "Brokes up? What ams that mean?"

"Come in, I'll explain."

The Norwegian glanced past Pickles and into the room timidly. After a moment he shook his head and took another cautious step away. "Nos, I don't think I should. It ams good to see you again, though. I-"

Pickles seized his arm and pulled him inside the room. "You don't gatta be shy, dude. Come an, I swear no weird stuff, alright? Let's just, y'know, forgive and forget, 'kay?"

Toki smiled at him and his drunken behavior and nodded. "Ja, sures, forgives ands forgets."

He went over and sat on the bed, seeming to be much calmer as he watched Pickles go over, drink some more, and then take a seat next to him. "So," the redhead asked, his voice slurred as he took another large gulp of the vodka. "whatcha been up to, duuuude?"

"I...um...just, you knows, beings poor."

He laughed drunkenly. Now the alcohol was really beginning to take its toll. Before his eyes colors swam and zoomed in and out of focus, and suddenly he was having a difficult time sitting up straight. He swayed slightly and took yet another sip of the vodka before inquiring, "Ah man, r'you serious? You're _poor?"_

Toki nodded. "Ja, I don't haves any money, so-"

"How're you livin' here, 'den?"

"I...well..." he blushed and admitted, "I do what yous did when you didn't have that much money—I do whats I gots to." Pickles' green eyes grew wide. He reached over, pulled the Norwegian into a hug, and didn't let go, not even when the other man resisted him.

"Pickle, what ams yous doing?"

"How old're you now, dude?"

"Fifteen."

"Huh. I've only been away for-"

"Six months. I...Pickle, I missed you." he pressed his face into the redhead's shirt and said sadly, "I missed yous so much. I always hoped you woulds comes back..."

"You did, huh?" without knowing quite what he was doing, he began to stroke the Norwegian's lower, back, let his hand slowly creep down to the boy's ass. "I missed you too...I missed—I missed fuckin' you..."

"Pickle, don'ts." Toki said, trying to pull away. "Can't we just nots this time?" Pickles didn't let him go, but instead held him down and kissed him, forced his tongue down his throat. This time when Toki tried to pull away, Pickles took his arms and held them down, pressed his entire frame against the Norwegian's. Toki was trembling, his eyes filling with a sudden fear. "Pickle, don't makes me hurt y-"

The redhead took another drink then offered the bottle to Toki. "Thirsty?"

"Nos, I-"

"It'll make it hurt less."

The Norwegian began to sob, tried to pull away with all his might as the reality of the situation became clearer. The fact still remained that he was a kid, that Pickles was a little older and slightly bigger than he was. Still his body was slender, and it was only showing hints of the incredible muscle that he'd develop, so he was unable to break away from Pickles as the drummer kissed him again and again, then unbuckled his belt. Roughly the redhead threw Toki onto his stomach and yanked down his pants.

"I missed you," he whispered hotly, pressing his lips against the bare flesh of Toki's back. "and now we're gonna make up, right? You're gonna let me fuck you?"

"No, please don'ts, Pickle."

"C'man, you know you want it, you _know..." _he pulled down his own pants and exposed the Norwegian to his quickly growing erection. "Oh my _Gad, _I missed you so damn much...you're so fuckin' hot..."

"Pickle, don'ts dos it, I'm tellings you..."

"You're tense." he observed, running his heavily callused hands up and down Toki's bare back. "And you're shaking, just like last time, on'y now I'm fuckin' _drunk, _an' I don't give a livin' shit whether I hurt you or nat."

Toki was weeping, still struggling to wriggle out from underneath the redhead. This just made Pickles laugh and slap at the Norwegian's ass roughly. "Don't—you shouldn't move, 'cause if you do, it'll piss me aff and I'll make it harder."

"Please don'ts, please..." he pleaded, sniffling and trying to wipe the tears from his face.

"You missed me, right? You wanted me to come back and do this to you, right?"

"I...I..._please, _Pickle, _please! _Don't hurts me!"

"I'm nat gonna hurt you," he whispered, taking Toki's cock in his hands and roughly stroking it. "Just fuck with yourself for a while and I might nat hurt you." he spoke hungrily, almost vengefully. He wanted the Norwegian to call his name, to sweat and take him like he never had before. Pickles watched as Toki took his own cock in his quaking hands and began to stroke it, letting out little whimpers of desperation. The redhead drank some more and snickered as he listened to the sounds of the kid's hand gliding up and down the length of his cock. Finally he finished off the bottle; without any further hesitation he went back over to Toki, seized a handful of his hair, and tugged hard, laughing when the kid let out a pitiful yelp of pain.

"You like 'dat?"

"Please, please..."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Pickle, don'ts..."

"You'd better shut your mouth."

The kid stopped speaking—clearly it did no good anyway—and his whole body became rigid as Pickles walked behind him and smiled. So it was happening to him again, that same old humiliating misery that Toki had known the first time that he'd lost his virginity. Pain, searing, tearing, agonizing pain rippled thru the Norwegian as the redhead entered him. What could he do? Hadn't he wanted this, to let the Pickles make love to him just like this? No, Toki had never wanted this and he'd never wish it on anyone. Clearly Pickles was drunk out of his mind and that made it a little more acceptable, a little easier to take, but it still made him cry and curse. He just wanted the redhead to love him, to be with him like he had last time, was this so wrong? Yes it was, Pickles seemed to say silently as he tore away at Toki. All at once the guitarist let out a piercing cry of pain and tried to pull away, but the other man held him fast and didn't let go again until he was finished. Once everything was over, Toki felt every nerve inside of him screaming and begging for some kind of relief, and he also felt ashamed. Pickles made it better, though, like always; he leaned close to the guitarist and whispered, his breath smelling strongly of alcohol, "And you ain't never gonna forgi—get me now, are you?"

"N-Nos," he said timidly, crawling under the covers of the bed. _I'lls never forgive you. _


	6. A Life For A Life

_I was looking for joy, your treasure  
__you cried for me and I forgot you after all,  
__I did find nothing, but love  
__I got through, come and find me._

_~~Every Morning, by Jim Morrison_

_**CHAPTER 6: A LIFE FOR A LIFE**_

He remembered everything that had happened as he drug himself out of the parking lot and down the street back in the direction of the hotel. Where else could he go or what else could he do? He hated the thought of having to be in the same room as Toki, but truly he had no other option. Something inside of him nagged, _Yep, definitely should start thinkin' these things out better, _as he unlocked the hotel door with his key. He realized that his fears were in vain, because the room was totally empty, although Toki's deddy bear was still in its spot. _Good, _Pickles thought, falling onto the bed. _That means that he's still here...he'd never leave his bear._

He fell asleep despite his better judgment, and, like like so many times before, sank into a world of his own nightmares. There were the old bone-piercing sounds and the same dizzying smells, but this time there was something else. Like before, he was standing in the middle of that same road, only now it wasn't deserted at all; it was cluttered with pieces of metal, headlights from cars, and bits of burnt tires. In curiosity he raised his gaze up and saw a scene of disaster before him. There were cars that were crushed and completely demolished, being eaten away by hungry fires, but what really made his heart stop was what was lying on the road. There, amidst pools of spilled gasoline and oil, were the dead and dying, all crying out for some kind of salvation from their last painful moments. There was also something else—Toki, lying in the middle of that littered road, his perfect body horribly contorted and broken. Pickles slowly went over to him, afraid of what he was about to see.

The Norwegian's eyes were open, their pale irises gazing emptily up at the dismal sky above. Pickles reached a hand out to him, pressed it to his cheek, but immediately flinched back. Toki was so cold, so painfully cold. How could he be alive? Then it hit him—he wasn't. All at once Pickles felt a crushing weight hit him, and he could do nothing but kneel there in the guitarist's blood and try to make sense of it all. Without thinking, he took Toki's limp and lifeless body and held it close to him, tried to feel any sign of life. When none came, he was left to sob and whisper, "What'd I do, what'd I do? Toki, I love you, I _love _you..." _I love you, I love you, I love you..._

"Pickle, wakes up now."

The drummer sighed tiredly and rubbed at his closed eyes. "What's up?"

"I ams leaving. You can comes with me or not, I don't really care."

"Then why're you tellin' me?" he asked, opening his eyes and staring blankly at the guitarist. Toki looked over at him and shook his head almost sympathetically.

"If you're going to rides with me, then you might wants to clean yourself up first."

"But..." he watched as the Norwegian threw his deddy bear into his suitcase and began to carelessly pile his shirts on top of it. "Why'd you wake me up if you don't even want me to go?"

"You were havings a dream again," he explained calmly, never taking his gaze away from his suitcase. "so I thoughts that you might want to be woken up; your dreams don't seems that fun, Pickle."

"They're nat. I—wait, did you say _ride?"_

The Norwegian gave him an odd look and nodded. "Ja, I dids. I'm driving us back home, unless you wants to."

"No, you can't drive!" Pickles blurted, remembering the scene of the crash from his dream. Toki arched a brow and continued packing.

"Whys not?"

"Because I—you...you just can't."

"Fines, I'll get Dalla to takes me home. She's goings to stop by in a few days at the Mordhaus anyways. _You _can takes yourself homes if you don't wants to even be in the same car with me." Toki finished his packing and closed his suitcase. Once that was done he turned to the drummer and said coldly, "Sees you at home."

"_She's _comin'?"

"Of course she ams." and he walked over to the door and opened it. "How else ams I going to introduce her to everyones? After alls, in a few months we'll be married." he exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Pickles sighed, rubbed his eyes, then looked out the window distractedly. Toki had opened it before leaving so that the full view of the L.A. Skyline was visible. Without another second's hesitation, the drummer hurried to get dressed and packed.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

The ride home was an impossibly long, agonizing one. Every few minutes Pickles was either trying to call or text Toki, ask him everything was okay and if the ride was going well. Eventually the Norwegian got fed up with his questions and turned off his phone. This only made the drummer even antsier as he drove home. Later that night he arrived back at the Mordhaus and was surprised to see that Toki and Dalla were already there. The girl's expensive Norwegian sports car was parked in the driveway. Large, red letters stood out on both sides of it, reading something in a language that Pickles couldn't pronounce: _Troløs._

The drummer had some Klokateers bring his bags up to his room before going into the house. He knew he wouldn't like what he saw, but what could he do? Nobody else could ever know how he felt about Toki. Taking a deep breath, he entered the living room and wasn't at all surprised to see Toki and Dalla sitting on the same couch together talking and explaining the situation to the other members of the band. News of the proposal had already been made public by the media. The fact that it had occurred in a public restaurant hadn't helped either, and now Toki was having to explain why he hadn't told them what he had been planning.

"I just wasn't ready to lets anyone know yet," he said.

"Sos yous just excluded us and invites Pickle?" Skwisgaar asked angrily. "How ammnest thats fair?"

"He didn't include me in nothin'," Pickles broke in, making his way to his room. "trust me."

Once the drummer reached his room he laid down on the bed and slowly began to think about things. He didn't know what to do from here. It seemed as though his life up until now had just been a pointless waste; now that he was never going to be with Toki, what else was left for him? Would he spend the rest of his years in utter misery alone and bored, just sitting here laying on the bed and getting high and drunk? What kind of pitiful existence was that? Pickles' mind flashed back to how Toki had looked lying dead on the road. Outside everyone was talking loudly. He could hear their annoyingly excited voices thru the wall of his room.

"Thanks everyones, I'm reallys glad you're taking this well. Pickle didn't takes it well at all." Toki was saying. "And I won'ts be gone long, only a few weeks..." A few weeks? Where would he be going? "Dalla wants me to gos with her to Norway for a littles while to really gets to know the rest of her band."

Nathan said doubtfully, "So you can quit _Dethklok?"_

"Nos! I'd never dos that! It ams nothing permanent!" but Pickles could sense the hesitation in the guitarist's voice. Something deep inside of him disagreed with Toki's words. Was nobody else as smart as him? Couldn't they see that their rhythm guitarist was about to quit and go play for his girlfriend's band? Pickles let out a dry sob and closed his eyes.

If Toki left, then what would he have left? Nothing. There had to be some way to stop this, to make everything go back to normal—had there ever even been a 'normal'? Pickles wasn't sure, but the more he thought about it, the more he hated Dalla for what she was doing. That's when he got an idea. It was a horrible, disgusting idea, one that made him cringe, but it had to be done. The key to Toki staying in the band was with that girl; she had him groveling at her feet, but Pickles could change that very quickly. Every time he closed his eyes his mind also flashed back to the dream he'd had where the Norwegian was lying dead in the street. There had been an accident of some kind, of that he was sure, and somewhere deep down inside of him the drummer knew that if Toki went with Dalla back to Norway, his dream would come true. He'd never see the guitarist alive again.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

He watched Dalla for days, tried to see any kind of weakness in her, but could notice nothing overly obvious. She indeed did seem perfect, except for one small, microscopic little thing—she and Toki hadn't even had sex yet. Why? Because he 'respected' her, because he wanted it to be 'special'. That was all fine, but clearly she wanted to sleep with him. Pickles left them alone for the next three days then made his way down Toki's room. The Norwegian was out with Skwisgaar buying something for his guitar, so Dalla was laying alone on her fiancée's bed watching T.V., fingering her engagement ring thoughtfully. Pickles entered quietly and almost timidly, feeling his stomach twist and tie itself in knots.

He felt himself about to vomit with nervousness as he talked to her. It wasn't a simple thing to do—he chose his words very carefully, thought about each of his movements before making them. Finally she was all over him, kissing him and pulling him down onto the bed. He hated it, wanted so badly to push her away and hit her for even considering cheating on Toki for begin with, but instead he went thru with his plan. The Norwegian did have good taste in women; Dalla was everything he said she was. Beautiful, long, slender legs, a delicate body, so fair that it was almost like porcelain. Her hair hung in bold, lavish, dark brown curls around her long neck—she'd dyed it so that it wasn't that warm caramel brown like Toki's—and her red lips were perfect and seductive. She was beautiful, but still all Pickles could think about was his Norwegian love, his Toki.

Once it was over Dalla fell asleep in his arms and Pickles just laid there, totally unable to move or even breathe. Surely somebody had heard them, had called Toki and told him to come home right away, something was wrong. Dalla was so perfect that Pickles almost felt guilty about what he was doing, but in the end he knew it was best. He didn't know _why _he knew it, he just knew it was so, and that was why even though he hated himself fully, he laid there with Toki's fiancée and waited. Eventually—after what seemed like hours—the guitarist came striding into the room, but when he saw the two laying there his eyes filled with shock.

"I...um...this ams a bad time?"

Pickles felt his face grow hot as he threw Dalla off of him. "Dude, I..." he suddenly regretted his actions, wished more than anything that he was dead instead of here right now. The way that Toki was looking at him, the way those pale, once so affectionate eyes stared at him with anguish, shame, and bitter hatred tore him apart. "...I didn't mean it."

"It's a bit too lates for that, don't you thinks?" then turned to Dalla, opened his mouth to say something, but just ended up looking away and letting his head fall into his hands. "W-Whats did I do wrong?"

"Toki, I-"

"WHAT THE FUCK DIDS I DO WRONG?" he was sobbing. As he cried he fell heavily against the door frame. From down the hall there came the echoing sound of approaching footsteps. Pickles rose out of the bed, pulled on his pants, and tried to urge Toki into the room—he didn't want anyone else to see the Norwegian like this—but before he could Dalla was trying to get him back in the bed.

"You said you wouldn't leave, darling." she whispered, kissing the drummer's cheek.

He recoiled from her touch, tried to say so quietly that Toki couldn't hear, "You fucking whore, you really wanna pull this shit _right in front of him?"_

"It doesn't matter," she said, smiling sweetly. "he'll take me back. He loves m-"

"Why did you dos this?" Toki asked, grabbing Dalla by her arm and pulling her away from Pickles. He ignored the fact that she was half naked and sobbed, "Don't you loves me? I loves you! I'd never...why did you dos this to me?"

"I...Toki," she chuckled, glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of Klokateers that had gathered outside of the room. They were watching eagerly, all silent and trying to hear what they were saying as she murmured, "Dear, I just...Pickles is...he's wonderful, and I love him. I love you too, but-"

"But you don't wants to marry me, ams that what this is about?"

"No," Dalla answered, shaking her head. "darling, that's not it at all, but please just calm down. I think that maybe we may have _rushed _things...maybe I'm not ready to get married after all."

"Nows you tells me?" Toki tried to hide his tears, but was unsuccessful. Pickles put a hand on his shoulder, tried in vain to comfort him.

"Listen, dude, I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't...please, you gatta understand..."

"I _loved _her, Pickle!" he hissed, glaring at the drummer with a cold sort of rage. "Why did you haves to fuck _her, _my girl? Outs of all the fucking girls in the world, why'd you haves to choose _her?"_

"Darling, please don't-"

"Dalla, sweetie, shut up." the drummer said, pushing her back. "Just go and put some clothes an, alright?" then he turned his attention back to Toki, pulled the Norwegian into a hug, and whispered to him, "Look, I know you don't get it yet, but this is good for you. Dude, I'm _protectin' _you."

"F-From whats?"

"I..." he faltered and admitted. "I don't know, but just trust me."

Toki shook his head and pulled away from the drummer. He was trembling, blushing horribly with both anger and sorrow. It was as if the drummer could see the other man's heart breaking right in front of him, reflecting that horrible, unimaginable pain in those pale eyes. "Pickle, don'ts you gets it? How can I trust you when you said that you didn't even cares abouts me? All you dos ams hurts me _all the fuckings time! _I don't gets it, I really don't. I try so hard to be nice to you after you leaves me and you hurt me, but..." he swallowed and shook his head. "I thoughts that you wouldn't hates me enough to dos something like this...I...just leaves, please. Go and takes her-" he pointed at Dalla, was unable to say her name. "-and gets out. You've ruined my life, sos just takes everything else that I haves—everything else that ams important to me—and leaves."

"I'm _saving _your life!"

"Just leaves me alone. I hates you, are you happy?" he asked Pickles, tears slowly snaking their way down his once so fair cheeks, "Does Dalla makes you as happy as she mades me?"

"Dude, I..." the drummer felt his voice falter. He couldn't meet the guitarist's gaze, couldn't bear to see those eyes that were so bright and shining with tears of betrayal. "I just wanted to save you."

"Gets out!" he roared with a new found rage, punching Pickles roughly in the shoulder and then pushing him towards the door. "Gets out, gets out, gets-"

"Honey, don't freak out!" Dalla exclaimed, grabbing Toki's wrist and holding him back. "It wasn't anything, it was-"

"_Hvorfor i helvete ville du gjøre dette? Jeg elsket deg, jeg ønsket å tilbringe resten av livet mitt jævla med deg, men dette...Dalla, dette er for mye... du har å komme vekk fra meg nå, før jeg skade deg... før jeg skade meg selv."_

Pickles had no clue what those words meant, but he knew that they were far too cutting to be said in English. It seemed as though Toki was trying to protect him, but it didn't work. Now the drummer felt worse than ever as he stood there sniffling and crying. He'd never felt this bad in his entire life—he felt like a little kid who'd been beaten and punished one too many times. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to get over this, but then he saw Toki. Had the guitarist ever felt anything worse than this pain? It didn't appear so, not as he went and sat on the edge of his bed, let his head fall into his hands.

"Whats did I do wrong? God, why ams you doing this? I haven't been bad, so...please..._hvorfor hun hater meg så mye? Du kan ikke gjøre henne elsker meg igjen? Hvorfor ikke hun elsker meg lenger? Kanskje er jeg litt for dumt..."_

"Toki, darling, listen to me." Dalla said, sitting down next to him and putting a hand on his thigh. "_Kjære, er det i orden. Jeg trenger ikke bety å gjøre det, ærlig. Jeg var bare-du kan forstå at jeg trengte det? Faen, jeg har vært tigge deg for uker til å sove med meg, jeg ville det! Hva slags mann nekter å sove med kvinnen han elsker bare fordi han 'respekterer' henne? Det er ikke din skyld, men..." _when Toki said nothing, just stared blankly down at the floor, she shook her head and got up. Pickles barley noticed her making her way over to him; she took the ring she'd been planning to give to Toki on their wedding day, placed it in the drummer's hand, and kissed him on the lips. "We're going now, darling."

"Where?"

"You're going to marry me."

"No I'm na-"

"But first we're going to go back to Norway together," Dalla murmured in an annoyingly innocent way. "because I told my band that I'd bring them my fiancée, let them talk to him. I can't go back there with no one, don't you see? I'd be humiliated, so now you have to go with me."

Pickles felt more tears flowing down his cheeks as he glanced over at Toki, who still appeared an emotionless statue. Numbly he shook his head. "No, I can't do 'dat to hi-" and then he remembered the whole reason that he'd done this his to begin with. All at once he realized that at this point he had to decide between his own life or Toki's. Someone had to die, he was sure, but now the only thing question remaining was whether it be him or the other man. He hadn't broken the guitarist's heart for no reason, he'd done it to save him from that painful death in the street. "Fine," Pickles said finally, guiding Dalla out of the room. "let's go."

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

Within minutes they were climbing in the front seat of Dalla's expensive sports car. It's jet black paint shined in the afternoon sunlight as the Norwegian girl jammed the keys into the ignition. Pickles wasn't sure what she was saying, only that it must be mad, because she was letting out little, quiet hisses of frustration as she threw her bags into the trunk. At the main entrance to the Mordhaus everyone was watching him with looks of utter hatred on their faces. Pickles went over and approached Ofdensen as Dalla loaded the last few of her bags into the car.

"It ain't nothin' permanent or anything, we're just-"

"I wish you wouldn't comes back, you fuckings dick." Skwisgaar interrupted, glaring at him in with deadly sort of ferocity.

Pickles swallowed down his pride and tried to address his manager again. "Dude, look, I dunno what I was doing, it was an accident."

Ofdensen looked away and responded coolly. "Sex isn't an _accident, _Pickles, it takes two people who know what they're doing." a pause then, "I'm disappointed in you. I never would've thought that you would've done this to Toki."

"This is what's best for him," the drummer explained, turning away and beginning to walk back over to the car. "Trust me."

He could feel their eyes boring into him as he climbed into the driver's seat next to Dalla. She smiled over at him, her lips a sparkling red, making her look like a perfect little porcelain doll. The drummer felt himself growing ill as he backed the car out of the driveway. As he accelerated, he was dimly aware of the dream. He glanced back over his shoulder at the Mordhaus, to where Toki's room was. The Norwegian was probably crying so much that he was making himself sick. Pickles almost began crying again as he turned on the radio. This was it, he was taking the guitarist's place. Maybe before the end Toki would forgive him again; perhaps when he went to Pickles' funeral he would say good things about him, maybe say that he had somewhat loved him. Pickles gripped the steering wheel more forcefully as he began to tremble. Love, that's what this was about? Love was the reason he'd been refusing to sleep for the past few days for fear of the nightmares returning to him? Love was the reason he was knowingly taking Toki's place in death's cycle? If so, then he must be a desperate, pitiful idiot.

They drove until the sun began to sink below the horizon. Pickles hadn't stopped to take a brake in hours, he just kept powering thru the long minutes and hours, trying to ignore Dalla's advances. Finally she got the hint and became sulky. She crossed her arms across her chest and said moodily, "Toki was funner when we drove together."

"I just left my best friend for you, so why don't we just leave each other alone for a while?" Pickles demanded, turning up the radio. A _Van Halen _song pounded in his ears as he pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas. They were on a busy interstate now, speeding past every other one of the cars. The drummer failed to notice his speed; he just kept biting his lip and driving. Dalla laid back in her seat and stretched out, tried to get his attention.

"Toki never-"

"You ever heard this sang?" he inquired, glaring at the road ahead. Dalla just laughed at him and rolled her eyes.

"You say the world 'song' cute. I likei-"

"Don't touch me, sweetie." he blurted, shrinking away from her hand, which was slowly making its way towards his lap. Ironically enough the song was called, _Humans Being, _and as he drove the lyrics were hopelessly seared into his brain:

_There is just enough Christ in me  
__To make me feel almost guilty  
__Is that why God made us bleed  
__To make us see we're Humans Being?_

He chuckled. _Almost _guilty? "Nah, totally." he murmured to himself as his cell phone rang. Dalla glanced over at him and arched a brow.

"Is that your phone?"

"Yeah." he dug it out of his pocket and, without thinking, tore his gaze away form the road and read at the text that was on the screen. What he saw made his face grow read and his heart skip several beats.

_February 13th, 2011 6:35 P.M.  
__Toki Wartooth: I was thinking about what you said and decided that you were right. As much as I hate you right now, I kind of still love you. I hate to admit it, but I really do miss you. I know I should totally hate you right now for what you did, but I just can't. Maybe you were right, maybe Dalla isn't right for me...then again, maybe you're full of crap, just like you've always been. When you decide to come back, don't be afraid. I'll be waiting for you, no matter how much I wish I wasn't._

Just as he read the last word, Dalla grabbed his hands, slapped his phone away from him, and screamed, "Eyes on the road, idiot! _Prøver du å drepe oss?"_

"Huh?" Pickles looked up to see that he was drifting off the edge of the road, into the median. Before he had a real chance to correct his mistake, his phone buzzed with yet another text.

_February 13th, 2011 6:36 P.M.  
__Toki Wartooth: By the way, tell Dalla that she can sell the ring for all I care. I'm done with her and love...it's overrated and stupid kid's stuff. Thanks.  
__P.S. I still hate you._

I hate you. That was the last thing Pickles read right before the car ran off the road and crashed.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

If you asked Pickles what it was like to die, he would've said that it wasn't anything special, just sort of like drifting off into a deep sleep that you know you won't wake up from. There is some peace in it, but there's also a dull, penetrating fear of what you would see when you were in that sleep. He didn't know much after he was ejected from the car. There was pain, unimaginably horrible pain, but there was also something else. He smiled, tasting the sickening flavor of warm blood as it coated his throat. He felt himself bleeding—he felt it running down his face, flowing from his mouth, and draining onto the cold, gasoline-soaked road from his stomach. He knew he was about to die right there, but didn't much care. The way he figured it, Toki would've been here right now if it hadn't been for him and his actions, and that thought was more than enough comfort to keep him holding on for a little while longer.

Weakly he looked around, called out, "Dalla? _Dalla?" _She wasn't there. He swallowed, tasted more blood, and let his eyes close. White-hot pain radiated thru him as he thought back to Toki, imagined his smiling face, and all of those times he himself had gladly woken up, read the Norwegian a story, found the monsters, and fixed him soup. Pickles felt himself laughing.

There wasn't much more than that. Sure, within minutes—or agonizing years—there were flashing sirens and news reporters. Pickles barley felt himself being loaded onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. Thru his closed eyes he could see the sudden flashes from the cameras of the news reporters; they were being held back by the police, who were desperately trying to ensure that the scene remained without commotion. Around the reporters other ambulances carried away the dead and dying to the hospital. There was shouting and cries of, "It's Pickles the Drummer from _Dethklok! _It's really him!" there were also the voices of reporters dismally describing the scene to cameras. The drummer let out a groan and coughed a little, felt blood staining his chin.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die..."

Needles were thrust into his arm without care and in an instant he felt medication begin flowing thru him, a warm and absolute comfort. _Drip...drop...drip...drop..._the morphine coursed thru his veins like lightning, numbing some of his pain, but not nearly all of it. All the drummer could think to do was to spend his remaining energy whispering in a near-silent sort of desperation, "Toki, I love you, d' you love me? Toki, I wish you were here...please come and be with me when I die...Toki, I'm sorry, so sorry, but don't make me die alone..." Then he sort of let himself drift off into a medication-induced state of unconsciousness.

"Gonna die," Pickles whispered drowsily, swallowing. His mouth was totally dry and the taste of blood was gone. Confused, the drummer opened his eyes a crack and looked around at the white room that he was in. There was still a needle sticking out of his arm that was flowing a steady line of medication thru him. He was also hooked up to a heart monitor that was emitting a regular beeping noise. He felt a warm hand touching his cheek, and when he summoned up the strength to open his eyes again he saw Toki standing over him, his brown hair a mess and partially hiding in his face, his cheeks tear-stained.

His pale eyes shined as he smiled and said lovingly, "H-Hey there, Pickle."

"Yeah," he breathed, struggling to remain conscious. "heya, dude. How're you doin'?" weakly he touched the guitarist's arm and grinned a little. "You're not hurt, right? You're fine?"

"Pickle, you idiots, you ams the one whats gots hurt."

"Nah, I'm fine." the drummer peered down at the needle that was protruding from his arm. "Maybe I did get hurt a little..."

The guitarist began crying and he fell to his knees beside the bed that Pickles was laying on. "I'm sorrys, I'm sorrys! I didn't means it, I don't hates you, I really don't!"

"Course you do, dude," the drummer said, placing a hand on top of Toki's head; he gently ran his fingers thru the other man's hair and whispered, "I would hate me if I was you. I'd never talk to me again."

"Nos!" Toki said, shaking his head. When Pickles dared to touch his cheek, he accepted the attention gratefully. "It ams my fault because alls of this didn't even haves to happen! Me and Dalla, she was sos much like you. Every time I would talks to her I would thinks of you, that was the only reasons I was even with her to begins with. And Camille, you remembers her?"

"How could I forget 'dat bitch?"

"Didn't you even notice hows much like you she looked likes?" The Norwegian was trembling as he confessed, "Her hair was a littles lighter than yours, but her eyes...they weren't as prettys as yours. When I fucked her it was almost likes I..." he buried his head in his hands and said pitifully, "I'm so confused; why do I wants to be with you likes that? Ams it bad, 'cause I think that it ams."

"No, dude," Pickles said gently, placing a hand on Toki's shoulder. "s'nat bad at all." When the guitarist looked up at him and sniffled, the drummer delicately wiped the tears from his cheeks and smiled down at him warmly. "It's not bad."

"And now you're hurt and it ams my fault."

"No, don't you get it yet? If it wasn't me, it would've been you, and you would've gotten something a lot worse." he put some of Toki's hair out of his face, tried to make him see that this was nothing to be sorry about, it was a miracle. "You're a mess." he observed. "How long've you been here waitin' for me to wake up?"

"Three days."

He frowned. "I ain't been gone that long, have I?"

Toki nodded. "Ja, three days, two hours, ands eleven minutes." he hesitated, thought, and then added, "It ams three in the morning—everyone else ams out in the other room outsides sleepings."

"Why're you here?"

" 'Cause I..." the Norwegian blushed and admitted, "I didn't want you to haves to spend the whole night alones. What if something happened? Since you weren't awakes to makes the monsters gos away, I had to protect you."

Pickles felt a slow, steady smile creeping across his cut face as he asked, "You protected me from the monsters?"

"I hads to." Toki answered gravely. "Because you woulds have dones the same for me." he stood up to his full height then leaned down and pressed his cheek to the drummer's face. Clearly he was just happy to be able to touch the redhead again, to be able to see his eyes open for the first time in so long. Pickles accepted this, closed his eyes, and let out a content sigh.

"Hey, dude, get my phone for me." he said suddenly.

The Norwegian went over to a table in the corner of the room, picked up the cell phone—miraculously it hadn't been broke up too badly in the crash; the screen had been cracked and some of the buttons refused to work, but other than that it was okay—and then passed it over to Pickles. The drummer smiled as he turned it on and loaded his old text messages. He read aloud, "As much as I hate you right now, I kind of still love you. I hate it, but I really DO miss you. I know I should totally hate you right now for what you did, but I just can't...maybe you're full of crap, just like you've always been. When you decide to come back, don't be afraid. I'll be waiting for you, no matter how much I wish I wasn't...I'm done with her and love...it's overrated and stupid kid's stuff. Thanks...I still hate you." without restraint, he laughed and inquired, "Jeez, you sure did like 'dat word 'hate' a lot, didn't you?" Toki said nothing, only looked quite ashamed of himself as Pickles lowered the phone and asked, "What day is it today, babe?"

Toki, surprised by both his own words in the text message and the fact that Pickles had addressed him as 'babe', said, "I—ums...the sixteenth."

Pickles took his hand and said gently, "So that means that three days ago on February the 13th, 2011 at 6:35 p.m. You told me that you loved me for the first time."

He turned red and nodded. "Ja, I guess I dids."

"And you fuckin' told me in a text." the drummer now sounded a little agitated. "nat even to my face. That pisses me aff a little, dude."

"Sorrys."

"I mean, when I think about it—really think about it—I've spent mosta my fuckin' useless life tryin' to get you to say that, just maybe even a _hint _of 'dat, and you didn't even have the balls to say it to my face." Pickles released Toki's hand and said with a fake sort of anger in his voice, "I thought you had more guts than that, babe."

"I dos!" he said indignantly. "I so do too haves the balls to say it!"

"Then go ahead, lemme hear you." he slowly and painfully reached into his pants pocket, praying that it was still there, and then felt the cold metal band that Dalla had given him. He pulled it out of the pocket and held it in his hand, awaited those beautiful words that the other man was about to say.

Toki murmured shyly, "I...I l-loves you." as soon as he said this he began blushing madly.

Pickles let out a weak little laugh and felt the cold ring in his hand. "Really? I can't tell by the way you just said it. Do it again and make it good an' loud this time."

"I loves you."

"Really?"

I loves you!" Toki said it now without a trace of shame.

Pickles just shook his head in fake disappointment. "I just imagined that you'd say it _better, _y'know?"

"I loves you, I reallys do!"

"You think so?"

"Pickle, God damns it, I loves you!"

Now he was laughing. "How much?"

"More than anythings," Toki said, staring down at him with eyes that were full of childlike affection. "mores than anything—_everything _in the whole world."

"There y'go, now you gat it alright." the drummer opened his arms, urged the guitarist to give him a hug. Gently he ran his shaking, bandaged hands along the small of Toki's back, wishing so badly that he wasn't confined to this stupid hospital bed. Perhaps this was a blessing, though, because if he moved in too fast, then surely the guitarist would back off, afraid that something that happened so long ago would occur again. So, unable to do much of anything else, Pickles held Toki to him, kissed the top of his head, and muttered in his ear, "I'll never leave you again, I swear. I was an idiot."

"Yeah, you were."

"But you still love me?"

"Ja, I dos. I don't know why, but I just dos, you idiot."

Pickles chuckled and pulled Toki away from him. He held the Norwegian's fair face in his hands, longing more than anything to just rip the white bandages off of his fingers and feel the warm skin of the other man. "Guess what?" he felt the ring, which was still sitting in the palm of his wrapped hand. Toki arched a brow.

"What?"

He slipped the band on the Norwegian's slender finger and asked quietly, "You gonna marry me or what?" The Norwegian wrapped his arms around the drummer's neck and pulled him into a painfully tight hug. "T-Toki, dude, lemme go! You're hurtin' me!"

"Sorrys!" he gasped, ending the hug. He he was crying. Pickles shook his head at this.

"No, don't do 'dat! Don't cry, please. You've done enough of that, just sit here and talk to me, alright?"

Toki laughed and asked cluelessly, "What ams you mean 'talk'?"

"I mean just tell me what's up. We haven't talked in so long..." he took the guitarist's hand and held it firmly. "And maybe since I kinda managed to fuck death over just so I could be with you, you could do me a hell of a favor and say you love me again."

"_Jeg elsker deg," _he responded, hugging Pickles tightly again. _"Jeg elsker deg mer enn noe annet i hele jævla verden."_

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

It had seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd felt like this, like how a normal human being _should _feel. He was happy, carefree, and finally just content with himself. Especially now, as he laid a hand on Toki's flat stomach and ran his fingertips along that warm flesh. His hands were slightly scarred by nearly invisible, pearly thin lines, but they were slowly fading with each new day, along with all of his other injuries. The doctors said that he should've died there on the scene, but thankfully Dalla had managed to pull herself together and call the ambulance almost immediately after the accident. In an ironic twist of fate, she had saved his life, and Pickles was grateful for that, but more grateful for the fact that she'd left him in the middle of the road to bleed to death in order to save herself. Her act of selfishness had caused Toki to see just how different he was than Dalla, so he hadn't hesitated to break things off with her.

Now the two laid in the warmth of Pickles' bed together, both feeling safe and secure tangled in the covers. Toki turned red as the drummer kissed his chest and his muscular stomach. "Pickle, do you stills likes me?"

"What?" he glanced up, met the Norwegian's shy gaze. Suddenly he felt as though we were being taken back to that night years ago in the hotel room when he'd first seen Toki naked. "Of course I do."

"I'm older now."

"So am I." Pickles said back, running his hands along the inside of the guitarist's slender thighs. "Gad, you've grown up...you're so beautiful, so perfect..." Indeed Toki had grown out of that delicate, awkward teenage state; he was almost just as slender, but also so much more defined and toned. It seemed as though everything Pickles had imagined the guitarist would be, he was; he was perfect, and their bodies now fit together as if they were made for each other. Though Toki wasn't that little, ignorant boy anymore, he certainly still appeared to the redhead to be easily broken, so when he resumed kissing the other man, he didn't do it forcefully or demandingly, he just went with whatever happened.

"Pickle?"

"Yeah?" he inquired, kissing Toki's cheek tenderly.

"Maybes tomorrow we coulds gos out together?"

"Um-hmm." he didn't stop kissing the Norwegian, but instead brushed his lips along his neck and his jaw.

"And...well...ams yous still goings to be here when I wake up?"

Pickles stopped and met Toki's half worried gaze; a soft, kind smile was on his face as he spoke. "I'll be here if you are, and tomorrow we can do whatever the fuck you wanna do."

"Pickle?"

"Yeah?"

"I'ms not so sorry that I loves you anymore." Toki said, his voice full of boyish charm.

The drummer grinned. "Yeah, and I'm nat sorry that I love you neither, even though love is 'kid's stuff'." he said, quoting the line from the Norwegian's old text. The guitarist just laughed and pulled Pickles into a passionate kiss.

It all began in a luxurious hotel room in the heart of some grand, sprawling Mexican city some time ago, and on February the 13th, 2011 at 6:35 p.m., it was nearly ended. Now, despite everything else—perhaps even the will of death itself—it seemed as though it would last forever, but then again no one could be sure. Pickles had never been good with the concept of time.

**][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] ][][[[]]] [] [[[]]] [][**

****A/N****

**That's it. I sure hope that it was good and you liked it, because I spent a lot of time thinking of how to end it. My next fanfic will take on a whole different approach to what we believe 'love' and 'perfection' is. Since I don't want to bore you with too much Pickles/Toki stuff, the next fic I put up will be one I just thought of a few nights ago. It will involve mainly Skwisgaar/Toki and, of course, a little, minor dash of Pickles/Toki and Toki/Ofdensen. That's right, I'm shaking things up. I hope you plan to read it, because it will be unlike anything I've written before. Okay, now that I've built up the suspense, I hope you liked this story. Reviews are appreciated. **

**Before I finally shut up and let you go, let me just say this—it is almost frightening how much I know about Norway. Before I started writing _Dethklok _fanfics, I had no clue where Norway even was on a map, but now I can speak a little Norwegian, name all the different ways to cook herring, and describe to you the different kinds of wildflowers they have and how endangered the wolfs are..._in Norway. _I even learned the exact location of the town of Lillehammer and how far away it is from Oslo, Norway. Isn't that great? Now I sometimes just go off and start spouting random information about Norway and my friends look at me like I have a mental problem or something. I've also memorized how to say 'I love you'_ [Jeg elsker deg]_ in Norwegian. *sigh* Maybe I need to actually start learning Spanish, considering the sad fact that I'm failing the class at my high school. -_-**

**Also, the word that was on the side of Dalla's car was _Troløs,_ which is the name of her band. In Norwegian it means 'Faithless'. Apparently I'm not good at thinking of band names either. :P**

**Peace & Love**


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